


A Sentence Set For Life

by nomical



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Barebacking, F/M, Frottage, M/M, Past Infidelity, Public Blow Jobs, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Switching, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:53:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5326472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomical/pseuds/nomical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's totally common to have inappropriate crushes. You wallow and feel sorry for yourself but eventually you quit pining and move on to bigger and better fish.  Merlin is no exception to the rule, but he wishes his awkward teen crush could be on <i>literally</i> anyone else. There’s brotherly love and then there’s this…</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sentence Set For Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emjayelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emjayelle/gifts).



> My darling Emjayelle, I’m so glad I pulled your name out of the hat. The plot bunnies started coming as soon as I read your prompts and this was a joy to write. Without you, I never would have pushed myself to write almost 30k of brothercest. I hope at least a couple of scenes in here are to your liking <3\. A big thank you to my two betas who will be properly honoured after reveals, and a round of applause to the mods for all their hard work.
> 
> A couple of notes about content: please don’t read this unless you are down for explicit brother-on-brother boning. They are school aged when they start but are both over the age of consent in the UK. I've warned for infidelity but neither Merlin or Arthur are involved.
> 
> The title is from Great Big Sea's [Nothing But A Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEn85B8vgnM) which became this story's accidental anthem.

The first time it happens they’re at a party.

Merlin is fifteen and still trying to get comfortable in his skin having grown a foot and a half in a single year. He towers over his mates even when they’re all kneeling in a circle on the floor and feels extremely self-conscious. They all watch, eyes fixed on the bottle as he spins it and there’s a chorus of jeers and laughter when the bottle stops and points directly at Arthur.

Across the circle, Arthur smirks at him. Far too cocky for someone whose voice hasn’t even dropped yet, he quirks an eyebrow and starts crawling towards the center of the circle. Not one to back down from a challenge – especially from someone a year below him – Merlin forces his legs to move and he shuffles forward. They meet in the center and Merlin schools his face into the haughtiest expression he can manage, ignoring the whispers and catcalls coming at him from all sides.

“What do you say we give them a show?” Arthur whispers, his breath hot on Merlin’s cheek. It smells like cider and is just this side of rank but Arthur doesn’t give him much time to process this before he presses a pudgy hand to Merlin’s cheek and tilts his head down.

Arthur’s lips are slightly chapped and their mouths scrape together awkwardly like they weren’t made to match up. The angle is wrong and it’s probably extremely obvious that neither of them have ever done this before but it feels like there’s an electric current running under his skin and every nerve is on fire. Arthur ends the kiss just as calmly as he started it and leans back on his feet like he hasn’t just rocked Merlin’s world with the chastest kiss of all time.

Realising that he’s still frozen on all fours, he crawls back to his spot in the circle, head held high like the kiss didn’t faze him one bit. Whoever’s beside him elbows him in the ribs but he still feels a bit out of body and he barely registers it. He should probably say something snarky to let them know they haven’t won, but just as he opens his mouth there’s squealing from the other side of the room and half the circle gets up to see what’s going on. Apparently one of the girls has got her tits out and their group migrates as one to get a look for themselves. Merlin hangs back, not willing to see if his legs are going to be able to support him right now. Arthur stays just long enough to shoot him a cheeky wink before he’s rushing towards the crowd.

The next day at school, all anyone can talk about is Sophia and how big her boobs are. Apparently seeing your first pair of tits trumps watching two brothers kiss.

***

“Whatcha reeeeeading?” Arthur’s voice drawls from somewhere on the steps.

Merlin rolls his eyes. “A book.” He hunkers down further in the sofa, hoping Arthur will pick up on the hint and leave him alone.

“What kind of book?” Arthur asks, coming into the room proper and draping over the back of the sofa.

“The kind with words. What do you want, Arthur?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to chat.”

Merlin rolls his eyes again. It’s never just a chat with Arthur. Normal people would see someone reading and know they wanted to be left alone. Not Arthur though. His little brother is exceedingly skilled at forcing his way into every part of Merlin’s life. Whether it’s playing a video game or hanging out with Will, Arthur is always right there, ready to push his way into the conversation or game or whatever. His mum tells him he should be flattered that his brother loves him so much that he always wants to be around him. Merlin isn’t so sure. It’d probably be alright if it wasn’t a constant thing. But he’s even started to dream about Arthur now which is weird and confusing and entirely Arthur’s fault.

“Aren’t you meeting up with Danny and the lads?”

“Yeah, you want to come?”

“Nah. They probably don’t want to hang around with a poof.”

Arthur frowns.

“Is that what they said to you?”

“More than once, yeah.” He aims for casual but misses by about a mile. So what if some of their schoolmates have a problem with him liking boys as well as girls? There’s no rule that says he has to be friends with everyone at school.

Arthur’s frown deepens, eyebrows knitting together in a tight line.

“Have any of them roughed you up before?”

“Nah, they don’t care that much. You know Danny is all talk.”

“You’d tell me if they did though, yeah?”

“Why, so you can go beat them up and avenge my honour?” Merlin snorts.

“Yes,” says Arthur so seriously it takes all of Merlin’s willpower not to laugh. “I won’t have anyone hurting you.”

Merlin puts his book down, admitting defeat.

“You do realise I’m the older brother, right? I’m supposed to be the one protecting you.”

It’s Arthur’s turn to snort.

“Yeah, but everyone knows I’m the brave one and you’re the bookish one. You leave the fights to me.”

“Like you’ve ever been in a fight in your life.”

“Have so.”

“Have not.”

“Have so.”

“Name one person you’ve fought.”

“Marcus Frost.”

“You’re such a liar!” Merlin scoffs.

“Am not!” He looks extremely pleased with himself. “You remember that shiner I got last spring? The one I told Mum I got from taking a header in the game against Stanmore? I really got it when Marcus started talking shit about you and Will behind your backs.”

“My hero,” says Merlin, dryly, ignoring the funny little flip his stomach performs. “But for the future, I can fight my own battles.”

“Sure you can,” says Arthur in a way that clearly implies he’ll continue poking his nose into Merlin’s business.

Merlin picks up his book, half-heartedly hoping that Arthur will let him keep reading.

“So what’s your book about?”

Merlin groans internally. “I dunno, I’ve just started. Something about fairies fighting against a genius human kid who’s trying to steal their gold. It’s supposed to be the next Harry Potter.”

“Nothing will ever be the next Harry Potter,” says Arthur with conviction. “Budge up will you?”

“But you’re going out?”

“They can get along without me.”

“But,” Merlin protests, already knowing he’s not going to win this one.

Arthur pushes at Merlin’s feet until there’s enough room for him to sit. Merlin swings his feet back into Arthur’s lap in retaliation. He’ll share the sofa but he’s not happy about it. Arthur is quiet for long enough to lull Merlin back into a false sense of security before he speaks again.

“Remember when we were little?”

“Not really as we were little and didn’t have the mental capacity to form memories yet.”

“I remember when you first learned how to read.”

“You were about four so I seriously doubt it.”

“Sure I do, you used to read to me for hours at a time. What was that one book? The one about the dragon? The one who didn’t want to sink boats? Or was he a sea serpent? Cedric?”

“Cyrus,” Merlin replies, smiling, “Cyrus the Unsinkable Sea Serpent. How on earth do you remember that?”

“I think it was the voices. You made all the characters sound different. Cyrus had a great voice.”

“I just gave him Eeyore’s voice. I made him sound all gloomy.” He does the last bit as an impression for added emphasis.

“That was it! Read to me again?”

“What, right now?”

“Yeah, read me your fairy book.”

“You can just read it yourself when I’m done,” says Merlin, exasperated.

Arthur just hums noncommittally and leans his head back against the sofa, eyes closed, waiting. Merlin shoots him a glare but his heart’s not in it. On this occasion his Mum might be right: it does feel nice to be wanted. He flips back to page one and opens his mouth.

“How does one describe Artemis Fowl? Various psychiatrists have tried and failed. The main problem is Artemis’ own intelligence.”

***

The next time it happens is Merlin’s sixteenth birthday. His mum had made a big fuss about her little man growing up and his dad had demanded to be the one to buy Merlin his first pint. He doesn’t have the heart (or frankly the balls) to tell Uther this is hardly his first drink but it’s technically his first legal drink and at the end of the day it’s the thought that counts.

Arthur sits on the bench across from him, sullenly picking at his food. Their father had made it quite clear that this was Merlin’s day and he’d be damned if he was going to be caught passing alcohol to a minor just to prevent a temper tantrum. Hunith strokes his hair, ignoring Uther’s glare.

“It’s alright love. Less than a year til we’re back here again celebrating your birthday,” she soothes him.

“And if we wait a few months after that I can even buy you the drink myself,” Merlin teases.

Arthur sneers at him, showing just how deliciously plump his lips have become.

It hasn’t been easy for Merlin to watch his baby brother grow up. Over the last year, Arthur’s interest in sport had become his number one priority, and he goes to a different practice almost every night. Part of him had been sad to see the soft flesh molded into firm muscle, but the pervy side of himself he tries not to listen to had watched hungrily. The first time he saw Arthur without a shirt on – coming out of the toilet, towel hanging low on his waist and beads of moisture clinging to his new pecs – Merlin had walked into a wall. Arthur had laughed at him for being an idiot and Merlin had gone to bed with a sore head and an equally sore cock, begging to be touched. Despite his best efforts, Merlin had woken up the next morning to wet sheets and a fleeting dream of Arthur running his tongue along his shaft. Merlin blames it all on his hormones.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Hunith claps her hands together. “Dear, would you be able to help me with it?” She stares pointedly at Uther until he clues in to whatever wave she’s operating on and they both stand up.

“Aw mum,” Merlin groans, “I don’t need a cake! I’m not a kid anymore.”

Hunith pays him no attention as she and Uther bustle around the corner in the direction of the kitchen. Quick as a flash, Arthur is out of his seat and crowding Merlin’s side.

“Go on then, give us a sip while they’re gone.”

Merlin snorts. “You heard Mummy and Daddy. You have to be a good little boy and wait 'til next year to have your first drink.”

“Fuck that, the last time you got pissed it was off my money! You still owe me ten quid from that party at Lance’s.” Arthur somehow manages to loom over him despite being a good head shorter than him.

“Piss off, it’s my birthday, and you’re not getting any of this.”

To prove his point, Merlin grabs his glass and starts chugging. Arthur tries to grab for it but Merlin dodges, slapping a hand to Arthur’s forehead and tipping the glass up so fast that some of the liquid runs down the side of his face. He lets his hand drop back to his lap and smiles, satisfied at his win and not really caring if he looks a mess.

What he doesn’t expect is for Arthur to lean forward and suck Merlin’s lower lip into his mouth. He holds it gently between his teeth and licks it slowly and deliberately, effectively cleaning up the spilled liquid. Merlin is frozen in place and his head is swimming from more than just alcohol.

Arthur pulls back slowly, apparently satisfied and looks Merlin in the eye.

“I win,” he says hoarsely.

Merlin bites his lower lip almost unconsciously and is greeted by the sharp tang of onions and something else underneath it. He barely has time to think holy shit I know what my brother tastes like before their parents are back with what looks like half the wait staff in tow.

“Arthur, quit bothering your brother,” says Uther sternly as Hunith places a cake on the table and they all start to sing.

***

Merlin thinks the rest of his sixteenth and early seventeenth years progresses about as normally as any other teenager’s. He goes to school, plays in the band, goes to science club, completes his work study, and hangs out with his mates. He gets a couple girlfriends and even his first boyfriend. Of course, none of them last past a couple of months but he’s not worried: what teen relationship really has longevity anyway?

What he doesn’t do is let himself dwell on the way his stomach flips when Arthur walks around the house without a shirt on. He doesn’t try to identify the emotion he feels when he walks in on Arthur and a girl making out on the sofa - and he definitely doesn’t tell his mum the direct correlation between that and the plate she finds smashed in the sink later that night. He doesn’t think about the way he gets more than a little worried when Arthur gets wiped out on the pitch. And he certainly doesn’t spend any time daydreaming about the two times they kissed (or whatever the fuck the thing that happened on his birthday was). He’s come to accept that some demented part of him finds his brother attractive but it’s not like he’s the only person in history to of ever liked someone they can’t have.

It’s at some point in this year that Merlin makes a vow to himself to never act on whatever the hell it is he feels for his brother. Those two kisses don’t actually mean anything. Arthur is clearly just messing with him like he’s always done (this is after all, the child who ate with his mouth open for six months straight just because he knew it grossed Merlin out and only stopped when their father threatened to stop feeding him) and Merlin has to be the responsible big brother and put an end to it. It’s not like Arthur is constantly teasing him anyway. The kid has his own life and with all the sports and the endless stream of friends he has coming through the house they barely spend any time alone together anymore. He can deal.

Which is probably one of reasons why Uther decides they all need a holiday at the end of November. Having spent most of October focused on some merger and essentially living at the office, Merlin saw even less of him than he did of Arthur. Of course once it was finished he decided it was the perfect time for a family holiday, and no amount of ‘but football’ or ‘we just had midterm’ or even ‘exams are coming up’ could sway his mind. Surprisingly, his mum also seems reluctant to go on the trip – it’s her relatives they’re off to see – and the days leading up to their departure are more than chilly between his parents. None of this matters though, as his father is excellent at pretending no one else’s schedule matters as much as his and argues that ‘he gives the Board enough bloody money every year that they can damn well give his kids a week off to spend time with their family for Thanksgiving’. So they all pack a bag and take a direct flight to the United States, Arthur moodily ignoring their father by way of putting his earphones in as soon as they’re past security and dragging Merlin into the seat next to him. They spend the flight equal parts bickering over who gets the armrest and dozing.

In Merlin’s (albeit limited) experience, all airports look the same; they’ve all got the same design scheme of industrial modern, all made of steel and glass that’s probably meant to look chic and let in a lot of sunlight but really looks sterile and far too Stepford Wives to be comforting. Logan International Airport is no exception. Long paneled hallways and geometric greyscale carpeting greets them at arrivals before they meet up with the American cousins.

Elena pulls them one by one into bone crushing hugs and says the others wanted to come meet them too but the Lexus is in for repairs so they’re stuck driving one of the many midsized SUVs for the week. Merlin can’t tell by her tone if she’s joking or if she thinks it’s an actual hardship to have to drive a BMW. The vehicle isn’t a behemoth, but it’s not exactly as small as their Ford Fiesta back home. Merlin gets stuck sitting in the middle between Arthur and Hunith – “no, not because he called it Dear, it’s because you’re the skinniest of the three of us” – and even though there’s plenty of room, Arthur somehow manages to push himself into Merlin’s space until their legs are pressed firmly together and Merlin’s starting to bemoan the loss of the Lexus. They have a fairly ineffectual shoving match which Elena laughs at and makes Uther bite out thinly veiled threats between his teeth.

By the time they get to Weymouth, Merlin is equal parts irritated and aroused. He’s glad he wore his baggy jeans as he’s pulled into hug after hug by various aunts and uncles. After the perfunctory ‘hellos’ are out of the way, cousin Leon and Elena’s fiance Percy help them haul suitcases upstairs.

“We’re a bit short on rooms this year,” says Leon apologetically. “We weren’t counting on Aunt Irene bringing her entire brood and Aunt Shirley is confined to the wheelchair full time now so she needs the big suite on the ground floor.”

“It’s fine Leon, the boys don’t mind sharing a bed, do they?” Hunith fixes them with a look that they both know means that there’ll be hell to pay if they disagree.

As they crest the landing, Arthur throws an arm around Merlin’s neck and jostles him in mock excitement.

“Of course it’s fine,” he smirks, “it’ll be like we’re having a slumber party.”

“Brilliant. I’ll go ask Ellie if we can borrow some of her nail polish, yeah?” Merlin shrugs out of Arthur’s grip and the rest of the crew laugh.

Merlin spends most of the week visiting with various family members and trying to be generally useful. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy how spacious the colonial home is and finds a bonafide secret passage hidden behind a bookcase. It leads to a lush office complete with fireplace and leather armchair that he utilizes to do his homework. He helps the aunts with their baking and pretends to be interested listening to his uncles talk about American football. None of the cousins are his age, but Leon and Elena are only in their early twenties and are good for a laugh. Leon’s girlfriend Mithian is also staying at the house and one memorable afternoon they take two cars (Leon, Mithian, Merlin, and Freya in one and Elena, Percy, and Arthur in the other) and go for a drive along the coast to take in the fall colours; at least, that’s what they tell their parents. Merlin does appreciate the scenery they pass, but what he really appreciates is the isolated inlet where they spend the afternoon, knocking back a few beers and passing around a couple spliffs.

“Don’t make a habit of this,” Elena warns, passing the joint to Arthur. “This shit isn’t good for your young, developing minds.”

“Because you never smoked when you were our age,” Arthur snorts.

“Do as I say, not as I do.” She shrugs and pushes a strand of sea-salt stiff hair behind her ear. “Besides, I was young and stupid. You are young and stupid but with adult supervision.”

Arthur grazes the back of Merlin’s fingers as he passes him the joint and Merlin’s grateful that the chill in the air provides an excuse for his shiver.

“Freya is a little young for this,” Percy frowns, his gaze fixed at the end of the beach where Freya, Leon, and Mithian are skipping stones. “Didn’t you say she’s fourteen?”

“Yeah well, we start ‘em young in this family.” Percy’s frown deepens and Elena laughs. “Relax Captain Buzzkill, we’ve been passing her Bud Select which has a mere 2.4 percent alcohol content. I remember what it was like to be the baby of the family and it sucked. Let her have some fun.”

Percy’s mouth is still pressed into a thin line which Merlin finds hilarious. Apparently Elena does too because she pokes at it a couple times and giggles. It becomes less funny when Elena decides the best way to get Percy’s mouth unstuck is to kiss it. The weed makes Merlin want to keep laughing but the intent is gone and underneath the high he feels a bit lonely. It’s been awhile since his last girlfriend and none of the boys at his school are out which really limits his options. He can’t even remember the last time he had a crush on someone besides Arthur.

He’s quite literally knocked out of his mope by Arthur shoving his shoulder.

“Race to the beach?”

He’s got that look in his eye that’s just so quintessentially Arthur: playful and challenging with just an air of cockiness all at once. Merlin doesn’t respond – at least not verbally – just shoves him in the chest and runs. Behind him he can hear Arthur squawk and his head feels light and everything’s funny again.

They stay on the beach until they’re positive they’ve worked everything out of their system and stop at Burger King for a late dinner. Out of all the adults, Uther seems to be the only one upset that they missed eating with the family - the rest of them are too busy passing wine bottles to each other and laughing uproariously at family anecdotes. When Merlin finally goes to bed it’s well past midnight and he’s sleepy enough that he falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. He’s rudely awakened an hour later by Arthur coming to bed and pressing his ice cold feet to the backs of Merlin’s knees.

The entire house sleeps in late the next morning, pairs ambling down to the kitchen slowly just before noon. Mugs are passed down the line with factory-like efficiency and they’re brewing the second pot before Freya has the genius idea to go out for lunch. Then it’s a mad rush to the showers to claim first crack at the hot water. Merlin makes it to their ensuite a hair's breath ahead of Arthur and elbows his way into the room.

“We could always share,” says Arthur innocently.

Merlin slams the door in his face.

For a house packed to the rafters with people, they make it out the door in surprisingly good time. The waitstaff at Maria’s nearly cry when they start piling in en masse but there’s more than enough room for all of them. Merlin gets sat at a small table in the corner with Arthur, Freya, and Aunt Jane. Freya rarely meets his eyes and laughs slightly louder than necessary at his jokes. Whenever she does, Aunt Jane smiles all soft around the edges that says how sweet, she has a crush on her cousin. Merlin smiles politely back but tries not to do anything to encourage Freya. Then again, he can’t really judge when it comes to inappropriate crushes.

After absolutely stuffing themselves full of spaghetti and salad, Leon decides it’s time for the annual touch football game. This is met with mixed responses, but the consensus is that anyone who has two functional legs should play. They drive back to the house to find Leon and Percy already setting up the pitch. There’s a brief debate on how they should divide the teams (men vs women, parents vs kids) but Uncle Morris insists the only fair way is to have the captain's pick. Leon and Elena make quick work of choosing their players and before he knows it, Merlin is really getting into the game. Some of the rules still baffle him, but he gets the general idea. Get ball. Run ball to end. Stop other team from getting ball. Nothing he can’t handle.

Until of course Arthur decides to take the ‘touch’ in ‘touch football’ literally. By some miracle, Merlin finds himself with the ball and starts sprinting towards the end zone. The older aunties cheer from the sidelines and he dodges around Leon only to find Arthur charging towards him head-on. Time slows down and he can see Arthur’s eyes narrow in concentration, thinking he’s already got Merlin trapped. Merlin makes a last minute weave and dodges awkwardly around Arthur. He thinks he’s away until Arthur gets a hand around his belt and pulls them both down to the ground. Merlin lands flat on his back with Arthur sprawled ungainily on top of him. Somewhere in the descent Merlin loses the ball and it bounces to the feet of two year old Daegal.

“No contact Arthur,” Leon warns, already changing direction to faux chase after Daegal.

Merlin turns his head and watches Daegal wobbling down the pitch as only a toddler can. Thankfully no one is looking at him or Arthur, all too busy cooing at Daegal. Arthur groans and Merlin’s heart races from more than just adrenalin.

“Smooth move ex-lax.”

“Who even says that anymore?” Arthur mutters into his neck.

“It was cool in 2001.”

“It was never cool.”

Arthur still shows no signs of moving anytime soon so Merlin places both hands on his chest and forces him up. He gets Arthur into a sitting position and rocks his hips upwards to try to get him up on his knees but he’s misjudged how stable Arthur is and effectively slides their crotches together.

Above him, Arthur freezes. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are flushed a dark pink. Completely horrified at his mistake, Merlin goes stock-still and tries to think of a way to say, ‘sorry for accidentally humping you’ that doesn’t sound horrendously creepy. Before he can come up with a solution, Arthur moves as if he’s standing up and Merlin’s just about to sigh in relief when Arthur suddenly bears down and thrusts against him. Merlin’s sigh turns into a hiss and he’s close enough that he can see Arthur’s pupils dilate. Arthur thrusts down again, deliberately this time there’s no way it’s a mistake – not when Merlin can feel Arthur’s slowly hardening cock rub against his.

Arthur looks like he’s in a trance, eyes pinned to Merlin’s face, mouth hanging half open, hips moving in short jerks. Merlin’s panting and is pretty sure he could come from just this when a cheer erupts down the pitch and he turns his head to see Daegal crossing the goal line. The teams are starting to line up for the next hustle and Merlin is acutely aware that if he doesn’t stop this soon he and Arthur are going to scar their entire family for life and probably get disowned.

“Arthur,” he says urgently. “Arthur!” He cups the side of Arthur’s face roughly and forces him to meet his eyes. “Not here, okay?”

Arthur starts like he’s touched a live wire. He’s up and off of Merlin in a heartbeat, just as Hunith calls out to them.

“You two alright?”

“Yes,” says Merlin just as Arthur shouts, “no”.

For one horrible second Merlin thinks Arthur is going to tell their mum that his deviant older brother tricked him and debauched him in plain view of the family.

“Merlin’s skinned his knee. I’m going to take him inside and take care of him.”

Hunith apparently doesn’t notice how husky Arthur’s voice suddenly sounds. Before Merlin can protest, Arthur has him by the hand and is dragging him towards the house, fingers linked tightly together. Any other day he would call Arthur out for being bossy but right now Merlin is confused and horny and just a little bit excited to find out what’s going to happen when they reach their destination.

Arthur doesn’t stop until they’re inside their room and he’s locked the door behind them.

“Did you mean it?” he demands.

“Mean what?”

“You said not here. Does that mean you want this?” His voice is low and wrecked with so much want that Merlin is powerless to resist crossing the short divide between them.

A dozen different thoughts flash through his head. It would be so easy to lie right now; so easy to laugh in his face and call him a freak or grab a pillow and smack him upside the head to distract him. Deflection has been the name of the game for so long that it’s second nature to him now. But the way Arthur is looking at him, completely open and vulnerable, Merlin can’t find it within himself to hurt his brother by telling a lie.

“Yes,” he whispers, pressing his lips to Arthur’s.

All the cards are on the table now, and even though part of him is kicking himself for acting on the very impulses he swore not to, it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off his chest.

“Thank Christ,” Arthur groans, opening his mouth and giving Merlin an absolutely filthy kiss.

Merlin meets his tongue eagerly with his own and draws Arthur deeper into his mouth. The back of Arthur’s head smashes against the door and Merlin spares a second to thank whatever god made sure the house was empty right now. He doesn’t spend too much time on it though because Arthur angles his head and deepens the kiss, pulling Merlin’s lower lip into his mouth, sucking on it. Merlin gasps and loses himself in the sensation, giving in when his newly turned sixteen year old self could not. Arthur releases him and Merlin can’t gather enough brainpower fully flesh out the question.

“You cheeky sod, you knew exactly what you were doing back then, didn’t you?”

Either by luck or by genetics, Arthur knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“Thought I was being obvious,” he snorts, mouthing softly at Merlin’s neck.

“Oh completely,” Merlin’s breath hitches as Arthur hits a particularly erogenous spot. “I thought you were just being my pain in the arse baby brother as usual.”

“I’ll show you a pain in the arse.”

It’s a stupid threat and an even stupider euphemism but fuck if it doesn’t go straight to Merlin’s dick anyway. He grabs Arthur by the front of the hoodie and guides him towards their bed, pausing only so they can kick off their shoes. Arthur goes down on the bed willingly and Merlin straddles him in a reverse of their earlier position. He slides his hips forward in a slow, smooth movement and beneath him Arthur moans.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Anything,” Arthur gasps.

Practically, it’s not very helpful, but it’s all Merlin needs. He bends down over Arthur, trying to get the angle right, eliciting a sharp exhale from Arthur when he finally finds it.

“Clothes. Now,” Merlin says, all blood heading south and leaving him unable to form complete sentences.

Arthur picks up on the general idea and wiggles his jogging bottoms down just enough to let his cock tent the front of his pants. Merlin means to pull down both layers of his pants but somehow only manages to get his trousers pulled down. Trying to reposition to grab hold of his pants, Merlin accidentally thrusts against Arthur and the sensation is too good to ignore. With just cotton between them Merlin grinds down, completely captivated by the sounds coming out of Arthur’s pretty mouth and the heat pooling in his groin.

A little voice in the back of his mind appeals for sanity and tries to remind him that he’s currently humping his brother. Luckily, that voice doesn’t seem to be putting up much of a fight against the rest of his body's screams for completion. It feels so different than it had with his, albeit limited, other experiences. With Arthur it’s just a blind want; desperate like he’s going to unravel if they break apart. It feels like he’s going mad with it, the need to feel Arthur on every part of his body and he grinds down hard without any finesse or rhythm.

Beneath him, Arthur keenes and arches his back off the bed, thrusting up to meet him. Merlin catches a brief glimpse of Arthur’s eyes, open wide and practically feral, before Arthur throws an arm around his neck and pulls him down into a crushing kiss. Their lips mash together and Merlin moans as Arthur’s tongue pushes into his mouth. He catches a brief taste of the apple pie Arthur had for dessert and chases after it, licking greedily in Arthur’s mouth.

He knows the he’s not going to last long - overstimulated seems like an understatement - but when Arthur pulls back from his mouth only to bite down on his shoulder he’s pushed over the edge. He can feel his pulse beating madly in the spot between Arthur’s teeth as his orgasm rolls over him. A strangled moan escapes his lips as he buries his head into the pillow and he feels the tell-tale pulsing that means Arthur has started to come as well. Arthur’s thrusts slow down and Merlin has just enough brain power to register that the noises Arthur makes as he comes are really hot before Arthur stills beneath him.

They lie there in a sweaty, sticky heap, both trying to catch their breath, when the reality of the situation starts to hit home for Merlin. They’ve just crossed the biggest Do Not Cross line there is. He isn’t exactly familiar with the Bible and the Ten Commandments, but he’s pretty sure ‘thou shalt not fuck thy brother’ isn’t in there because it’s not a thing normal people need reminders about. But before he can work himself into a proper state, Arthur pats him on the chest.

“Get off. I can practically hear how loudly you’re thinking and if you’re going to have a stroke or something I don’t want you to die on top of me.”

Merlin snorts into the pillow and rolls over. “Am I that obvious?”

“You’ve just had the best sex of your life, it’s completely understandable that you’re a bit overwhelmed.”

“Fuck off,” Merlin laughs.

Arthur props himself up on one elbow. “To be fair, I think most people would probably be having a bit of a crisis right now.”

“You seem to be taking it remarkably well,” says Merlin, drily.

“I’m not most people then, am I?” Arthur winks.

“God, you’re a pain,” Merlin groans. “But we should have a proper conversation about this, right? I feel like this is one of those things we should probably talk about.”

“Oh, I agree. But now is not the time or the place.” He lifts his legs up and swings them down, using the momentum to bring himself into a sitting position. “Right now, we need to get ourselves cleaned up and back to the game before Mum walks in and sees us with spunk dribbling through our pants.”

“Agreed.” Merlin swings his legs over the side of the bed, grimacing at the unpleasant tacky feeling of his pants.

He still feels a bit panicky, but it’s a manageable panic, like the kind you feel on a rollercoaster just before the drop. The promise of a conversation and his acting abilities get him through the rest of the day. After all, it’s not like anything has really changed - he still has to pretend he doesn’t feel anything for his brother outside the boundaries of familial love. He’s so good at acting in fact, that no one notices anything out of the ordinary. The day progresses as planned and when Leon pulls out his guitar and Uncle Bud takes out his violin, Merlin feels himself relax fully for the first time all day. He lets the folk songs wash over him, unfamiliar but somehow friendly, and loses himself in the drowsy comfort of it. He heads to bed sometime around midnight, the lilting tune of Down in the Valley following him upstairs. Maybe he’s been lulled into a false sense of security by the warm fuzzies that come along with a family music night straight out of an Americana film, or maybe it was the mixed drinks Elena kept passing him when the adults had their backs turned. Hell, it might even be that for the first time in years, he doesn’t have the crippling guilt of knowing he’s a freak for being attracted to his brother. Either way, Merlin’s head is barely on his pillow before he falls asleep.

***

The next morning, Merlin wakes up ridiculously early (especially considering the time difference) with an arm wrapped around his middle and someone breathing on the back of his neck. His brain, still sluggish and reluctant to be awake, takes a few minutes to process that the arm around him is actually Arthur’s and that this is probably an okay thing to be happening now after the events of yesterday. Still, it’s the first time he’s woken up in the same bed as a partner - and fuck, that label is all wrong for what he feels for Arthur. Besides, partner implies a relationship. Is that what he wants from Arthur? Tucked in bed in a silent house, he can almost pretend they aren’t brothers; pretend that they’re any other couple sharing a bed. But the fact of the matter is that they are related, and while it’s safe to assume they are going to be a fixture in each other’s lives, their relationship is always going to be family first.

Merlin extricates himself from Arthur’s hold and slips out of their room: it’s far too early to deal with all the morose shite swirlling about in his brain without coffee. He stands in the kitchen, hot mug ebbing the chill from his hands and marvels at how calm he is about the whole thing. In the past, whenever lewd thoughts about Arthur had crossed his mind he’d felt an overwhelming sense of shame. As hot as his mental picture was, he couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness. Now that they’d finally crossed the threshold, Merlin felt a sort of lightness. The heavy weight, the little voice in the back of his mind that whispered ‘there’s something wrong with you’ was gone, banished by the mere fact that Arthur wanted it too. Then again, maybe it just meant they were both freaks.

The distant groan of floor boards breaks his reverie and Merlin turns to see Arthur pad softly into the kitchen, barefoot and tousle-haired, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Hello. You’re up early.”

“Woke up and y’weren’t there,” Arthur yawns.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you weren’t old enough to sleep by yourself. I’ll check with Mummy and see if she packed your teddy bear.”

“I’m just not used to my shags getting up and leaving before round two,” Arthur shrugs.

Merlin snorts. “Like you’ve ever shagged anything in your life.”

“I have now, haven’t I?” Arthur crosses the short space between them and tugs Merlin’s coffee away from him. “And something tells me you enjoyed yourself last night.”

“Oh?” Merlin backs up until he hits the counter. This isn’t in his plan. They need to talk about this. Though his cock seems to be pretty okay with the proceedings. “What gave it away?”

“The way you were moaning my name was a pretty good start.”

There’s almost no space between them now, and it’s almost too easy to close the gap and bring their mouths together. Besides, Merlin is seventeen. His mum is always telling his dad about the developing teen brain and how decision making skills develop last. He’s allowed to give in and make some less-than-good decisions. Arthur opens his mouth and gives Merlin an absolutely filthy kiss that wakes him up far more effectively than coffee ever has.

“Your mouth tastes horrible,” says Merlin as they break apart for air.

“And yours tastes like cheap coffee, now shut up.”

Arthur brings their mouths back together and yeah, Merlin can get used to this. Can get used to Arthur, the younger brother who practically came out of the womb giving orders, taking control like this in a way that’s mutually beneficial. He’s still a couple inches shorter than Merlin and their hips don’t line up perfectly but that just means they have to get creative. Merlin leans back and let the counter support him and suddenly everything is just right.

Arthur hisses as their cocks slide together and the feeling is just as glorious as it was the day before. The hard line of the counter is digging uncomfortably into Merlin’s back but the good far outweighs the bad. Arthur has always been fairly flighty in his interests, but when he actually takes the time to focus on something he’s magnificent, and apparently the way he fucks is no exception. He’s rutting up against Merlin, putting his athleticism to good use, mouth working just as furiously as he nibbles at Merlin’s earlobe. Merlin is so close that he doesn’t care that he’s about to come in his pants again for the second time in twenty-four hours. He’s seconds away from reaching the high when without any warning, Arthur suddenly flings an arm around his neck and forces him to bend over, knuckles digging hard into his skull.

“What the hell? Get off of me!”

Arthur dances them around the kitchen, laughing as he continues to mash Merlin’s brains out.

“That’s what you get for hogging all the blankets last night,” he crows.

“Oh my God Arthur, what are you twelve? Let him go,” says Elena from somewhere near the door.

“Not until he learns his lesson,” says Arthur, continuing to shuffle them around.

Cluing in on what might be Arthur’s fastest thinking ever, Merlin waits until his cock is completely flaccid and then taps him on the back.

“Okay, okay, I give! I’m sorry for taking all the covers. Now let go!”

Arthur gives him one final noogie and gives him a shove that sends him flying into Elena.

“You should seriously think about taking up weightlifting,” says Elena, helping Merlin regain his balance. “A little training and you’d be able to pin him no problem.”

“There’s a thought.” Behind Elena’s back, Merlin waggles his eyebrows at Arthur.

“C’mon Merlin. Since you so rudely stole all the covers last night, you can help me make the bed,” says Arthur, knocking Merlin’s shoulder as he passes.

Merlin swats the back of his head in retaliation and takes off running up the stairs.

Behind them, Elena laughs. “You boys never change.”

***

The day after Thanksgiving, after the leftovers have been divided and all the dishes have been scrubbed and returned to their respective cupboards, Merlin and Arthur finally get a moment to sneak away. After the close encounter with Elena and an even closer one with their mum five minutes later, they had come to a mutual agreement to hold off on physical contact inside the house. Of course, that didn’t stop Arthur from smacking Merlin’s arse when they passed in the hallway, but overall Merlin was quite impressed with Arthur’s patience.

Their break finally comes while exploring the old barn on the back of the property. Parked beside the long-rusted ploughs and spreaders was an old, but still driveable pick-up truck from Uncle Bud’s farming days. It takes a surprisingly small amount of convincing to get their parents to let them borrow it, and even less convincing on Uncle Bud’s part.

“Are their licenses even valid here?” asks Hunith.

“Oh, as long as they don’t draw any attention to themselves they’ll be fine,” says Uncle Bud. “You boys drive safe and call us if you get into trouble.”

“And remember to be back by four! Leon is going to drive us to the airport and our check-in is at five!” Uther calls after them.

It’s a funny feeling, driving on the opposite side of the road, and mercifully Arthur decides not to tease him as he’s getting used to it. Instead, he busies himself with the map, charting out their mini-road trip through small town America.

The towns they pass through are almost hilariously idyllic and charming. For a while they keep a tally of all the white steepled churches they see, but the scrap of a receipt they use to keep score on is soon full. They stop at a mom and pop store for snacks before turning off on one of the many tree-lined rural roads.

“Why do you reckon every other house has a flag out front? Are they afraid they’re going to forget what country they live in?” asks Arthur.

“Dunno. It’s probably more of a reminders for us outsiders. Don’t forget: you’re in the land of freedom and guns.”

The destination Arthur chooses for them is a state park appropriately named ‘World’s End’. They drive until the road ends in an empty gravel parking lot, dust cloud billowing as Merlin takes the key out of the ignition. Even the view from the parking lot is great; water just visible through the thinning trees. The fall colours are still attempting a brilliant display, even if most of the leaves now cover the ground instead of the branches. They spread out a blanket in the back of the truck and lie down, tossing packets of Bugles and Twinkies back and forth like it’s any other day.

“Am I going to be the one to bring it up then?” asks Arthur finally.

“You always were the brave one.” Merlin smiles weakly at him but Arthur frowns.

“I want to start by saying I don’t regret what we did one bit.”

“Neither do I.”

“And I want to make it clear that I chose to get into bed with you on my own - you didn’t coerce or pressure me.”

“I didn’t think I did.”

“Good. So there’s no reason to freak out or prevent it from happening again.”

“Except for the ten or so very good reasons it shouldn’t happen again.”

“Name one,” Arthur scoffs.

“Uh, okay, let’s go with the obvious incest thing.”

“Royals used to marry siblings in the middle ages to keep the bloodline strong,” Arthur sniffs. “It was completely normal.”

“You know what else was completely normal in the middle ages? Beheading your spouse because you fancied someone else. Let’s not draw on that particular period of history as a shining example of normalcy.”

“Fine. But there are loads of other famous examples of sibling relationships that didn’t end in horrible bloodshed. Besides, it’s not like I have to worry about knocking you up.” He smirks. “Name another reason.”

“Maybe the whole taboo society seems to have against it?”

“Fuck society. No, honestly fuck them. What they don’t know won’t hurt them. I know we played it a little loose this week but we just need to be smarter about it.”

Merlin sighs. “And what about the fact it would break our mother’s heart?”

Arthur deflates a little bit and Merlin can tell he doesn’t have a ready made argument against this one.

“Like I said, we just need to be smarter about it. Only mess around when we have the house to ourselves, -”

“Arthur, - ”

“No flirting whatsoever, - ”

“Arthur, - ”

“No, Merlin listen.” Arthur rakes a hand through his hair and rolls onto his side. “I don’t have all the answers for this. I don’t know what I’m feeling half the time but I know I fucking fancy you and I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember. I can’t promise this is going to work out but being with you, it just feels...”

“Right?”

“Exactly.” Arthur’s whole body sags with relief and he reaches across the short distance to cup Merlin’s face. “I get that it’s fucked up M. But right now, you’re the only thing in my life that makes sense.”

“Jesus, you’ve been watching too many soaps with Mum.” Merlin rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, I know that emotional shit does it for you,” Arthur grins, but doesn’t remove his hand. “Or did you forget we shared a wall when you were shagging what’s her name? Beth Chadwell’s sister. The one with the tits like melons?”

“Hannah? We didn’t shag. She gave me a blowie and then decided to ditch me for Oliver Shields a week later.”

“Poor you,” Arthur pats the side of his face, “bet you thought you shared a connection.”

“Well yeah, we’d been dating for a month by then!”

“She just doesn’t appreciate you the way I do,” says Arthur casually as he sits up on his knees.

“What are you doing?” asks Merlin warily.

“I’m showing you how easy this can be,” says Arthur calmly as he works at the button on Merlin’s jeans.

“Right here?!”

“Look around M, there’s no one here. Besides, I’m not going to be able to sit still for the flight home with the knowledge that Hannah fucking Chadwell knows what your dick tastes like and I don’t.”

Arthur works him out of his jeans. Despite the chilly air, his cock is making a valiant effort to stand up straight.

“C’mon M,” Arthur’s breath ghosts over his cock and Merlin’s hips inch up off the blanket. “I’ll make it so good for you.”

Merlin casts one last glance around, already knowing his answer.

“Yeah alright.”

Arthur doesn’t waste any more time. Mouth open wide, he sucks the head of Merlin’s cock gently into his mouth and holds it there, running his tongue along the underside. Merlin moans, tension leaving his body and he spreads his legs wider to give Arthur better access. Arthur seems content to bob on the tip, taking a fraction more in his mouth with every pass.

Merlin sits up a little to watch, completely entranced at the sight of Arthur’s lips stretched wide around his dick. He fists his hands in the blanket to try and ground himself, keep himself from thrusting up into the deliciously wet heat of Arthur’s mouth. He’s just started to rock his hips slowly, nothing too wild, when without any warning, Arthur suddenly takes Merlin down to the root. Merlin’s head slams back against the truck bed so fast he sees stars. Arthur gags a little and pulls off with a sloppy ‘pop’ and the loss of heat makes Merlin’s cock flag a little.

“Sorry, just wanted to see what that was like,” Arthur says sheepishly.

“No need to apologize,” Merlin waves a hand vaguely, “it s'all good.”

Arthur smirks at him until Merlin glares and looks pointedly down at his crotch.

“I thought you said you were going to make this good?”

Arthur’s gaze darkens and he starts sucking again like it’s his goddamn day job.

“We’re really going to have to work on your speed control,” Merlin grunts.

At least Arthur seems to have gauged his gag limit. He uses his hands to work the rest of Merlin’s length and fondles his balls like they’ve done this a million times before. Dwelling on his little brother’s sexploits has never been a favourite activity of Merlin’s and he doesn’t even know how many people Arthur has been with or how far he’s been, but what he lacks in experience, Arthur makes up for with eagerness. His tongue roams up and down Merlin’s shaft, cheeks hollowed like a porn star. It’s not the best blowjob he’s ever had, but the fact that it’s Arthur down there pushes him over the edge.

“Arthur I’m, I’m -” He loses the ability to think coherently and settles for tugging gently on Arthur’s hair, willing him to understand.

Arthur just reaches up with his free hand and locks their fingers together. When Merlin comes Arthur squeezes his hand, coaxing him through it and doing his best to drink down all of Merlin’s load. He does a remarkably good job and Merlin is equal parts impressed and turned on as he watches Arthur lick a stray drop from the corner of his mouth. His lips look deliciously plump and his cheeks are flushed from more than just the cold.

“So, what do you think? Better than Hannah Chadwell?” Arthur’s cocky demeanour is back in place but there’s a hint of something more beneath it.

“Definitely.”

Merlin sits up and pulls Arthur towards him in a sloppy kiss. He’s never tasted himself quite like this before; a heady rush of sex and Arthur mixed together. He starts to work on the zip of Arthur’s jeans, eager to see what they taste like when mixed together, but Arthur bats his hands away. When he looks up, he’s surprised to see Arthur’s cheeks are redder than before.

“I’m going to blow in like, two seconds and I want the first time you go down on me to last. I’ll just take care of this myself, yeah?”

Merlin nods and Arthur hops down beside the truck, his zipper barely open before Arthur is gasping. Merlin tucks himself back into his jeans and rolls over to see Arthur bent over himself, knuckles white on the hand gripping the side of the truck. Instinctively, he leans down and presses a wet kiss to each knuckle, taking his time and letting his tongue linger on each one. Arthur’s head falls back and he lets out a satisfied groan as he spills onto the gravel.

“See, I knew you were into that romantic shit. Pass me a tissue, will you?”

Merlin hums noncommittally, continuing to suck on Arthur’s index knuckle while he tosses him a napkin.

“Jesus M, you’re insatiable.”

“I just like seeing you squirm.” Merlin grins and climbs off of the truck.

“They'll be plenty of time for squirming later. Right now, all I want to do is enjoy the last rain-free day we’re going to see until God knows when and make out with you against some trees.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Merlin holds out his hand and Arthur takes it, tucking both of them into the front of his hoodie. It’s not a perfect plan, but it’s a start.

***

The trip home has Merlin oscillating between contentment and intense fear that his parents are going to pick up on whatever this new dynamic is between Arthur and himself. Neither of their parents seem to be in a chatty mood at the airport; Uther barking at them to hurry up with the luggage tags and Hunith snapping back to not yell at the kids. By the time they board the plane, Hunith all but pushes the boys towards the back of the plane, citing that she 'needs to have a talk' with Uther. Merlin is all too happy to shuffle down the crowded corridor, suitcase rolling awkwardly behind him, and wedge himself into the aisle seat beside Arthur. Wasting no time, Arthur heaves the armrest out of the way and pulls Merlin even closer, manhandling him into position until his shoulder is at a suitable angle for Arthur to lean his head on.

“Get off, Mum will see!”

“Mum is going to spend the next twenty minutes arguing with Dad and then her sleeping pill is going to knock her out for the rest of the flight,” Arthur snorts. “Besides, it’s not like I’m molesting you. You’re basically a blunt object to me right now.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Arthur pulls his hood down over his eyes and settles in.

For the first forty minutes or so, Merlin keeps flicking between his book and watching his parents, ready to shove Arthur off if either gets up for a trip to the loo. Neither of them do: in fact, neither of them even turn around to check on them. Sometime after the meal has been served and cleared away, Merlin falls asleep.

They land at Heathrow to the familiar sight of grey sky and wet tarmac. The ride home is largely uneventful, mostly because his mum seems too tired to argue with his dad about whether they should take a cab or save money and take the train. An overwhelming sense of normalcy overtakes him as he stares out the window, one white row house blending into the next. If it weren’t for the bruise on the join of his neck, it would be easy to believe that what happened in America was some cliched, booze induced fantasy. It’s hard to reconcile the fact that twelve hours ago he was getting quite possibly the best blow-job of his life from his brother in the back of a pick-up truck with the reality of sitting in cab with his family like nothing happened. Like his world hasn’t been irrevocably changed forever because it turns out his brother is just as messed up as he is. Something’s got to give. There’s got to be some kind of explosion or earthquake coming down the pipeline because the world can’t just keep on turning like normal.

But that’s exactly what happens. Uther goes back to work, Merlin and Arthur go back to school, and life picks up exactly how it was before they left. The only difference being that on Thursday nights when Hunith is at spin class and Uther works late to talk with the American branch, Merlin and Arthur now spend the evening holed up in one of their bedrooms, taking each other apart with long fingers and clever mouths.

Any hesitation Merlin lets build over the week is swiftly eased by Arthur massaging his shoulders, working his way down Merlin’s back, kneading his soft flesh until he’s pliant and downright malleable. His guilt over the wrongness of their actions is assuaged by Arthur’s carnal moans as he writhes on Merlin’s fingers. His fears about the future and longevity of their arrangement are washed away by Arthur pressing soft kisses to his spine and then spreading him open with his tongue. The sweet nothings that fall from Arthur’s lips in the heat of the moment are what really do it for him though. They’re the things they can’t say to each other anywhere else but between the sheets in the moments they can steal away from prying eyes.

Because it’s not like they’re dating. It’s not like they can hold hands in public and go down to the cinema for a date. They aren’t a normal couple - they can’t ever be a normal couple. It’s something that Merlin acknowledges from the beginning and Arthur deflects whenever Merlin tries to bring it up.

It comes to a head on December 31st. Their parents are away on a marriage retreat up in the Lake District and Merlin and Arthur find themselves at a house party some upper year is throwing. Arthur’s mates descend on them and drag Arthur off almost as soon as they arrive and Merlin is left to find Will and Lance on his own. The house is dark and packed with what looks like most of their school, though Merlin finds it difficult to place people when they’re out of uniform. He snags a cider from the kitchen and chugs half of it immediately, eager to get drunk enough that the smell of sweat and mixed alcohols will no longer make his nose hair curl.

Will makes an appearance within the hour, dragging a tipsy Lance along behind him. All in all the party is fairly average but enjoyable; for some reason getting pissed with his mates in a crowded room with music blaring beats getting pissed with his mates in Lance’s dad’s garage. He’s on his way to being well and truly drunk when he sees something that makes his stomach drop: Arthur, leaning against the wall, twirling a piece of some girl’s hair around his finger.

It’s not like Merlin didn’t know this day was coming - he just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. The natural order of things dictates that humans grow up and find a partner. They hadn’t bothered talking about anything like being exclusive because it’s impossible to be exclusive in a situation bound to fail from the start. But now Merlin is faced with a tough decision: does he love his brother enough to continue their arrangement on the side, or does he love himself enough to put an end to it?

Some of his inner angst must show on his face because Will actually stops talking and turns around to see what he’s staring at so morosely.

“Aw shit, looks like your brother is romancing Guinevere.”

“Who?”

“Guinevere, Gwen Smith? Transferred from Barnet’s just after half-term? Any of this ringing a bell for you?”

“Not really.”

“My God Merlin, it’s like you’re in your own little world half the time. She’s clearly the hottest girl in our year.”

“She’s actually really nice too,” Lance interjects. “I sit next to her in chem and she made copies of her notes for me when I was out sick.”

Merlin hums noncommittally and takes a pull of his drink, eyes locked on Arthur as he throws his head back and laughs uproariously at something Gwen says.

“Yeah Lance here is gone on her. Wouldn’t shut up about her for a week straight, actually it might have been the same week you were off galavanting around America. But still, I’m surprised Lover Boy here hasn’t blabbed to you about her yet.”

“I don’t talk about her that much,” Lance scoffs.

“You’ve probably got her name scribbled all over your diary with frilly hearts drawn ‘round it. Mrs. Lance Smith.”

“Piss off!”

“Anyway,” Will steps backwards in time just to dodge a halfhearted shove from Lance, “it looks like you missed your window of opportunity. She and Arthur look pretty cozy together.”

They do look cozy and Merlin tries not to let how much his guts are seething show. It’s not like he hasn’t dealt with being jealous of Arthur’s girlfriends before. He’s practically an adult, he can do this.

Gwen puts a hand on Arthur’s shoulder and Merlin sees red.

He can do this...eventually.

“Unless,” says Will, “you go over there right now and stop them.”

“I dunno, I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.” Lance shifts uneasily.

“Oh c’mon Lance, you’re the one that’s always spouting that feminist stuff. Pendragon doesn’t own her for christ's sake. I’m just saying go over there and let her know she has options.”

“You try living with four sisters and not learn anything about feminism,” Lance growls, “but point taken. What do you think Merlin? Would Arthur be really pissed if I went over there right now?”

“Probably.” Merlin rolls his eyes.

Will checks his phone. “Well, he’s got seven minutes to get over there and interrupt the conversation enough to leave the window open.”

“What happens in seven minutes?”

“In seven minutes the clock strikes twelve and all the couples in the room that haven’t already passed out will be locking lips and then some to ring in the new year.” Will waggles his eyebrows.

“Ah.”

“So what do you say Merlin? Should our boy man up and make a move or should he stay here and the three of us can rock paper scissors to see who gets to kiss me at midnight?”

Every fibre of Merlin’s being wants to scream ‘for fucks sake yes, go over there and stop whatever the hell is happening because he’s mine’. The noble, self-sacrificing part of Merlin wants to let Arthur make his own decisions because he clearly fancies this Gwen and it’s his own fault for getting too attached to a relationship that was never going to work out anyway. In the end, he takes the coward’s way out and chooses to sit on the fence.

“It’s your call mate,” he shrugs. “If you like her that much then go for it, but it looks like Arthur’s basically sealed the deal at this point. Now make up your mind, I’m off to the toilet.”

“But you’ll miss our midnight kiss of passion!” Will calls after him.

Merlin doesn’t bother turning around. No amount of joking from his friends is going to ease the sour weight that’s settled in his stomach at the prospect of seeing Arthur kiss Gwen at midnight. He pushes blindly through the crowd until he finds the ground floor toilet and barricades himself in, back against the door, head between his knees. He’s not sulking; he’s retreating with dignity. Everyone needs a moment to themselves sometimes, right? You’re allowed to spend New Year's Eve pissed on the floor of some stranger’s toilet when the love of your fucking life is kissing someone else, right? Totally normal adult behaviour right here.

He doesn’t have long to mope though. He’s barely settled into his funk when someone knocks on the door.

“It’s occupied,” he calls.

“Merlin it’s me. Open the door.”

“Arthur?” Merlin gets to his feet and slides the bolt back, heart hammering in his chest.

Arthur forces himself through the gap and locks the door again behind him. His hair is flipped slightly at the ends from sweat and his cheeks glow red in the weak light spilling in from the lamplight outside. He looks stupidly perfect and Merlin is too drunk and sad to deal with this shit right now.

“Where’s Gwen?” he asks casually.

“Talking to Lance.”

“Why?”

“Because he started chatting with her?” Arthur answers with a frown like he doesn’t know if he got the right answer.

“Ah.” An unpleasant truth slots into place and Merlin sees the picture with clarity. “So you came to me as back-up because Lance stole your first choice of date for the night.”

“What? No!” Arthur looks incredulous. “I brought Gwen over to chat with the lads when I saw you taking off. I thought you wanted to rendezvous for midnight.”

“I - what?”

“Merlin,” Arthur rolls his eyes and steps forward, hands bracketing Merlin’s hips. “When are you going to get it through your thick head; I want you.”

“I managed to figure that bit out thanks. But I saw you with Gwen and I thought, I thought.” He breaks off, alcohol and emotions mixing together and making it hard to say the words. “I can’t give you everything you deserve Arthur. You deserve a normal relationship with someone you can kiss at midnight and not have it be a big deal. You deserve so much more.”

He doesn’t remember grabbing the front of Arthur’s shirt but suddenly he’s clenching it like it’s his lifeline. Arthur reaches up and gently detaches his hands, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs.

“I appreciate that you’re trying to save me from yourself yet again, and we will make time in the future to talk about your martyr complex, but contrary to what you think is going on, I’m perfectly happy to continue with how things are for the foreseeable future.”

Merlin opens his mouth to object again but Arthur silences him with a kiss. It’s blissfully warm and leaves his head spinning, all negative thoughts silenced until he hears the telltale chanting of the countdown starting on the other side of the door. He pulls back and manages to put enough space between them to talk again.

“But it’s not midnight,” he says thickly. “The kiss is supposed to happen at midnight.”

Nine, eight, seven.

Arthur sighs and shakes his head but he’s smiling. “That’s kind of the point Merlin. I want to kiss you all the bloody time.”

Six, five, four.

“I’m going to be the one kissing you before midnight, the one kissing you at midnight, and the one kissing you after midnight. Far, far into the future past midnight if I have my way. I’m never going to want anyone else when I’ve got you.”

“Arthur.”

Three, two, one.

“Happy New Year Merlin.”

Arthur pulls him close again amidst the cacophony of noise on the other side of the door. The sappy, drunk part of Merlin’s brain tells him that a kiss at midnight means something. The rest of his brain is far too preoccupied with Arthur’s tongue to pay it much mind.

***

With the new year comes the return of their parents and a startling announcement. Apparently Uther’s madcap dash to the United States for Thanksgiving didn’t drive away whatever demons he was dealing with when it comes to spending time with his family. Hunith sits behind him, tight-lipped and arms crossed as he explains to the boys that they’ll all be moving to a small country house in Todenham, a mere hour and a half drive from their current home. He’s of course happy to take them back into town on weekends to see their friends or pay for their train tickets, but he thinks it’s best for the family that they get out of London and ‘go back to their roots’.

There are several screaming matches, mostly between Arthur and Uther, but Merlin gets into his fair share as well. Hunith is infuriatingly silent on the subject, only stepping in when the fights turn particularly nasty, and even then it’s only to put a calming hand on one of the participant's chest and tell them it’s enough. Uther turns a blind eye to both logic and passion though, and they find themselves packed and out of London on January 12th.

Their new home is a small cottage in what Merlin supposes is the center of the village. It’s hard to tell though, as Todenham seems to consist of one long road that connects the A429 to the A3200. The house is nice enough, built with the telltale limestone laden bricks of the Cotswolds and a thatched roof. There’s no front garden but behind the house is a large field that leads to a crop of trees barely large enough to be a forest. Their neighbours waste no time in telling them that the Dunsden family who own the farm don’t mind if people walk through so long as they take care to not disturb the livestock. With the light dusting of snow on the roof the day they move in, it looks downright picturesque, like it could be on the front of a Christmas card.

No matter how nice the scenery, nothing can change the anger Merlin feels at his father. He’s got his A Levels next year, and coupled with the loss of his best friends, he’s surly and short-tempered for most of January. His anger is nothing compared to Arthur’s though. Arthur stops speaking to their father and only answers questions from their mother with short, stilted sentences over dinner. This infuriates Uther to no end, obviously displeased that his exercise in family bonding has backfired so spectacularly and he spends most nights holed up in the study, working long past the hours required in his contract. Hunith too seems distant and bad-tempered. She spends much of her time taking long walks in the village or volunteering with a number of the dozen or so horticultural societies around them. Merlin half hopes that all this bad blood will force Uther’s hand and get him to move them back home, but he knows his father and knows that the man has never once admitted to being wrong.

The one good thing about the move is that the house only has two bedrooms. Initially Hunith had suggested turning the ground floor study into a third bedroom for one of the boys, but Uther had kicked up a fuss about needing a space to work and neither Merlin or Arthur had raised any objections to sharing so the matter was dropped. It’s far easier to sneak around now, especially since Hunith turns in at ten and Uther sleeps in his study half the time. They quickly become skilled at muffling their moans with pillows and the art of soundless sex. They’re careful to cover all their bases; alternating which bed they share and mussing up the covers on the spare. One of them dutifully empties their trash can into the bin outside and Hunith praises them for keeping their room clean. Their door is always locked at night and only opened in the morning when both parties are up or sleeping in their respective beds.

The weeks directly after the move are the hardest. Arthur is consumed with fury at leaving his friends and teammates, unable to join any sports at their new school so late in the school year. He uses their sex life to burn off his surplus energy, riding Merlin long into the night or thrusting into him like he can fuck his frustration away. More often than not Merlin yawns his way through his morning classes but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Sometimes he thinks their arrangement is the only thing keeping Arthur from going off the rails completely.

They spend a lot more time together now; the inevitable result of changing schools in the upper years when friend groups have been long established. The hour long drive to school and back doesn’t hurt either. Uther had been keen to drive them originally, but Arthur’s moody silence and Merlin’s obvious disinterest in conversation had him begging off by February, claiming it cut into his work time. Hunith takes them occasionally when she has business in town but usually Merlin ends up driving them, finally using the licence that seemed so pointless in London. In truth, he rather likes driving when it’s just the two of them. So often when they’re alone in their room, things turn physical by the mere fact that they’re both teenaged boys and therefore ready to fuck at the drop of a hat. But Merlin loves driving them because it gives them the opportunity to just be; to talk and joke and arse around like they don’t have a big secret looming over their heads at all times. Uther’s car isn’t anything fancy, but it’s an automatic which has its advantages. It leaves Merlin with a free hand that Arthur holds as they wind their way down the A44 because ‘I know you like this sappy shit, Merlin’. Merlin just grins and pretends not to notice the way Arthur is always the one to reach across the divide first because he likes it just as much. It also gives them a means to escape the house when the fighting leaking through the walls gets too much - there’s only so many times they can roam the back fields, ruining the perfect smooth snowfall with their steps, hoping to ride out the storm. The car isn’t much, but it feels more like home that their actual house does these days.

Two months after the move and they’re still spending as much time out of the house as possible, driven out by the almost constant fighting. Merlin appreciates that they at least try to keep their voices down and do it behind closed doors, but it spills over into the everyday interactions. Suddenly ‘pass the salt’ becomes an exercise in diplomacy and asking ‘please turn that down’ may as well be a declaration of war. It eats away at Merlin in unexpected ways and he starts having trouble falling asleep at night. Even in the protective circle of Arthur’s arms, the sandman takes his sweet time with his rounds. He starts to feel run down all the time - even on the days he manages to get a full night's sleep - and doesn’t have the energy to argue with his father any more.

Through all of this Arthur is his rock, his one source of light in an otherwise bleak world. Their parent’s arguing affects Arthur too, though not in the way Merlin expects. The fight seems to have gone out of Arthur a bit; he’s either tired from a month long feud over the move or he doesn’t want to add his voice to the almost constant noise of their house. What he does start doing is picking up on Merlin’s mood faster. When Merlin has been quiet for too long and it all starts to be too much Arthur simply shoves his coat into his hands and drags him out of the house. He knows when Merlin’s in danger of caving in on himself and is there every time to prop him back up again.

One Sunday in late February finds Merlin hunched over his cereal bowl. He’s trying to focus on the steady scooping motion of his spoon but whispered squabbling is bleeding out from behind the study door.

“I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation. You’ve made it very clear already that we’re never going to agree on this issue.”

“We’re never going to agree if you don’t even try to see things from my point of view.”

“That’s because your point of view is completely irrational and doesn’t actually work in the world we live in.”

Everything feels tight and he’s contemplating getting back into bed and plugging in his earbuds when there’s an explosion of noise from the study and the argument ramps up to a full blown screaming match. Merlin flinches, dropping his spoon and immediately feels angry with himself. It’s just yelling, it’s not like he hasn’t heard it before. The thundering footsteps on the stairs announce Arthur’s arrival before he comes around the corner. It takes him approximately two seconds to gage Merlin’s mood before he’s picking up the bowl and dumping the dregs into the sink. Merlin gets to his feet, knowing it’s pointless to resist, and follows Arthur soundlessly down the hall. He shrugs into his jacket and shuts the door silently behind them, though their parents probably wouldn’t have heard it even if he’d slammed it.

Arthur leads the way, all too familiar to them now: over the fence, through the field, along the treeline, and through the gap. What little snow they had has long since melted but the air is still crisp with overnight frost. Weather like this makes it feel like there’s somehow more oxygen and it helps Merlin breathe easier. They walk in silence until they reach what they’ve affectionately dubbed ‘The Glade’, making it sound far more mystical than it really is. In reality, it’s nothing more than a slightly thinner bit of forest with a gradual slope down to a muddy little stream. Living in the city all their lives, neither of them are really born outdoorsmen, but these days sitting on a couple of overturned logs and chucking rocks in the river greatly outranks staying indoors.

Merlin watches Arthur scrounge in the frost hardened ground for rocks and other debris. It’s been a hard couple of months for their entire family, but against all odds Arthur has fared the best, though Merlin’s not really sure that counts as a win.

“Looks like we’re out of luck today M, there’s nothing but pebbles. Though some friendly wandering alcoholic has left us a bottle to smash.” He smiles like he’s genuinely pleased with his find and Merlin suddenly needs to know.

“How do you do it?” he asks nonsensically.

They may as well be twins with how easily Arthur can read his thoughts. He takes a moment to carefully pile his haul at the base of a tree before coming to sit beside Merlin on the log.

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “Maybe I’m just used to yelling ‘cos of my coaches.”

“But it’s our parents,” says Merlin softly. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Of course it does. But seeing you get so down about it bothers me more than whatever issues they’re having.”

He knocks his shoulder gently against Merlin’s and places a hand on his knee.

“Maybe that’s why I’m not as affected. I’m just channeling all of my anxieties into making sure you’re joining us in the world of the living instead of walking around like a zombie all the time.”

“That doesn’t sound very healthy.”

Arthur snorts. “Is anything about us really healthy?”

“Shut up.”

Merlin shoves ineffectively at Arthur and Arthur retaliates by wrapping an arm around him and pulling him in close. He knows his next question a good minute before he finds the courage to voice it.

“Do you think they’re going to get a divorce?” He hates that he sounds like he’s seven years old and feels like he’s about five.

Arthur sighs. “Your guess is as good as mine M. Dad has never admitted defeat before in his life and Mum is pretty much a hippie but family values are still really important to her.”

“Are you afraid?”

“The only thing I’m afraid of is if they try and split us up.” He shivers and Merlin suspects it’s from more than the cold. “I’m terrified of what’s going to happen when you’re off at school in a year and I’m still stuck living in this hellhole.”

“I won’t let them split us up,” says Merlin firmly. “Even if they start the process tomorrow I’m close enough to eighteen that any judge would give me the freedom to choose who I lived with.”

“You think?” asks Arthur hopefully.

“I’m positive,” Merlin replies like he’s an expert in divorce proceedings and not just a scared teenager.

“You’re going to leave me eventually though. One way or another.”

He ducks his head and it’s finally Merlin’s turn to be the reassuring one.

“It’s just for a year,” he says softly. “Just a year before you’ll come after me. And in the meantime I’ll call twice a week and come home on weekends.”

“No you won’t,” Arthur laughs. “But it’s okay. I don’t want you spending your first year pining away for me. I just don’t know what I’m going to do when my favourite distraction is gone and I’m stuck in bloody Todenham.”

“You’re going to live in the library and study your arse off so you have a ticket out of here. I’m serious Arthur - ” he ducks his head and forces Arthur to meet his eye, “suck up big to the teachers - it’s not like any of our dickhead classmates like us anyway - and get in their good books so they’ll write you glowing letters. Oh, and take up a sport that keeps you out of the house and fit enough that I still find you attractive when you come up to visit me.”

“Oi!”

Merlin’s still laughing as Arthur knocks him over the back of the log.

***

The rest of Merlin’s time in Todenham passes in much of the same fashion. It gets so bad between his parents that Uther actually starts working in London again; living in a flatshare Monday to Friday and coming home in a company car on weekends. Merlin figures it's probably the closest Uther has ever been to admitting he was wrong, but he still refuses to consider letting them all move back to London. Merlin misses his city with a physical ache. He longs for the cacophony of noise and the ability to lose himself in a crowd. He misses walking along the South Bank in the summer and buying sugarworks at the Christmas Market in December. He even misses the kitschy tourist traps like the line of living statues in front of the National Gallery and the accidently walking into red carpet events at Leicester Square.

It’s a big part of the reason he decides to go to Imperial College in London for his MBBS. Medicine, and specifically pediatrics, always seemed like the logical choice for him - combining his love of science and his desire to help people - and his grades are more than up to standard. That, and urgings from his Grandpa Gaius to follow in his footsteps and a promise of a spot at his clinic for his placement component if he wants it. Saying goodbye to Arthur is even harder than he dreaded and not a day goes by that he doesn’t miss him but it helps having Lance and Will back in his life, both of them having stayed on at local universities. And he does keep good on his promise to call several times a week. His first couple weeks back in London are a blur of freshers events and parties but once he settles into a routine he manages to talk to Arthur at least every other night and they keep up an almost constant stream of texts. They don’t have much of a physical relationship anymore - mostly due to Merlin’s new roommate, Toby, and his unfortunate tendency to enter the room just when things are starting to heat up. It drives Merlin a little bit crazy but it’s kind of nice to be able to talk to Arthur again without getting distracted by sex. As much as he likes sex - and he really, really likes it - he also enjoys just having Arthur on Skype for hours, the two of them doing their homework side-by-side like they’re back at their kitchen table, trading snippets of conversation back and forth like nothing has changed.

Merlin thinks the distance is probably harder for Arthur. He follows Merlin’s advice to the best of his abilities and throws his energy into his schooling. Unfortunately, none of the league sports teams want to take him on as the coaches have a very outdated sense of loyalty to returning players, and spends his free time hanging around the house with their mum until she gets sick of his moping and forces him to take up a volunteer activity. For reasons Merlin will never understand, he picks a local day nursery and starts helping with the before and after school program. Arthur’s cheeks turn bright pink over Skype as Hunith ruffles his hair and tells Merlin ‘he’s a natural’. Merlin’s sides ache with laughter at Arthur’s expression, but he’s glad his brother has found a new outlet for his caretaking needs.

He hasn’t seen his father since his moving day but he doesn’t think anything of it until it’s time for the Christmas Hols and he realises it’s been almost three months since they spoke. Merlin texts him, asking if he’s in town and if he wants to drive home together. When he doesn’t hear back from him at the end of the week he books a train ticket to Oxford, texts Arthur to meet him at the station, and hauls his bag onto the Tube.

The reunion with Arthur takes a weight off his chest he didn’t even know was there. Arthur doesn’t wait until they’re home to debauch him; pulls off on a side road as soon as they’re out of the city limits and fucks him into the plush leather of the backseat. When Merlin steps out of the car and into their mother’s waiting arms he blames his limp on the packed train car as Arthur snickers behind her back looking very pleased with himself. They’re almost done their tea and are on their second plate of biscuits when Merlin figures it’s safe to ask about Uther. The glow emanating from Hunith fades and she gets up to put on another pot. Merlin meets Arthur’s eyes across the table and for the first time in recent memory, he can’t read his brother’s expression.

“Dad hasn’t called in a couple of days.” Arthur shifts uneasily. “We thought he was in London like usual but we phoned the office yesterday and they said he was still sending in his work over email until a couple days ago. Then it just stopped.”

“Oh God.” Out of all the scenarios Merlin has dreamed up to explain Uther’s silence, he didn’t think this one was a real possibility. “Do you think we should we call the police? What if something’s happened to him?”

Behind him, a plate drops in the sink with a loud clang. Merlin turns around to see Hunith staring out the window, hands shaking and clenched in a dish towel. She starts when she sees both her sons staring at her.

“Oh, silly me, I forgot to get the post today. You boys wash up after yourselves, I’ll be back in half an hour.”

She smiles as she leaves the room but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Arthur sighs.

“I’m worried about her M. Things have been okay since you left but this? I dunno. It’s like her spirit has left her.” He rubs a hand across his tired eyes and suddenly he looks so much older than seventeen.

“What about Dad though? Do you reckon he’s in trouble or he’s just finally done a runner?”

“Frankly, I think he’s probably taken up with some young thing in London, the bastard,” Arthur growls. “God, why can’t he just be a man for once and admit he was wrong about this stupid family togetherness garbage?”

“His pride would never allow it,” Merlin sighs. “I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this all on your own but for fucks sake, call me next time, yeah? Dad may be wrong about a lot of things but he had the right idea: family needs to stick together.”

“I’d like to think we’re quite good at sticking together,” says Arthur innocently.

“And on that note, I’m going for a shower. Feel free to join me if you think you can manage round two before Mum gets back.”

***

In the days leading up to Christmas, no one mentions Uther’s name out loud. Merlin does his best to kickstart the holiday spirit by digging out the Christmas box and decking the halls; quite literally, with tinsel around the banisters and doorframes, figurines of Father Christmas and snowmen adorning every surface, and a large, slightly gaudy wreath for the door. Arthur makes fun of him for his, admittedly, overzealous decorations but Merlin shuts him up by pulling him into their bedroom and dangling mistletoe above his head. The next day he comes home from the day nursery with a colourful paper chain held together with large amounts of glue and Merlin gives it a place of honour across their mantel. Hunith surprises them both on the twentieth by coming home with a ten foot Fraser Fir tree that nearly doesn’t fit in the door. Merlin has to get their neighbour to saw the bottom off to get it to fit but all three of them agree it’s a vast improvement over their usual artificial store-bought tree. It fills their home with the heady scent that is so undeniably Christmas that makes it easy to focus on celebrating and set fears about Uther aside until later.

Arthur still has a couple days of school and volunteering left before the break so the baking to falls to Merlin and Hunith. Merlin isn’t exactly a natural in the kitchen but he’s watched his fair share of Bake Off and manages to cobble together a batch of half-decent mince pies and a downright excellent tray of gingerbread cookies. The cooking process is greatly aided by copious amounts of Hunith’s special mulled wine, and she promises to give him the recipe before he leaves.

Beyond the truly excellent wine, Merlin is really enjoying spending time with his mum; just the two of them. He hadn’t noticed in recent years, mostly due to an increase in schoolwork and a preoccupation with Arthur, but the strain on his parent’s marriage had definitely spilled over in the amount of alone-time he spent with his mum. It’s endlessly fascinating to talk with her now as an adult; not quite an equal but as someone with their own personality and interests. She tells him that she’s taken up painting again, something she’d put aside when she’d had children, and shows him some of her work. They’re all watercolours, mostly of the village and immediate countryside, and are far better than the humble way Hunith had described them. Merlin takes a particular liking to one of their house and practically begs Hunith to let him take it back to London.

By the time Christmas Eve rolls around, they’re all feeling festive and are well on their way to gaining healthy holiday tummies. It’s a chilly day with the wind rattling the windows and a few stray snowflakes blowing past without making a real effort to stay. The presents sit brightly under the tree in a multi-coloured pile, waiting to be opened the following day, though the ones with Uther’s name hang in uncertainty. After a proper dinner with all the fixings, the three of them break out the Scrabble board and let the songs on the radio wash over them. They’re on their second game and Merlin is feeling warm and drowsy when the front door bangs open.

Merlin turns so fast on his chair that he nearly topples out of it, Arthur’s arm on his side the only thing keeping him upright. Uther stands in the doorway, unmoving, a look of blind fury on his face that Merlin has never seen before. Hunith rises and takes a tentative step towards him and warning bells start going off in Merlin’s head.

“We’ve been so worried about you,” she starts.

“How dare you,” says Uther, so low it’s almost a whisper.

“What?”

“How dare you pretend for all these years when you’ve never once had feelings for me,” he growls, upper lip curling.

Merlin’s heart is beating rapidly now and looks sideways at Arthur to see the same fear reflected in his eyes. Something isn’t right.

“What are you talking about?” Hunith asks slowly.

“I know,” he says, turning his head to look at Merlin, “about Balinor.”

Hunith freezes halfway between the table and Uther and for a moment Merlin’s terrified she’s had a heart attack: he’s never seen his mother look so afraid. It only lasts a moment though and then she’s practically running forward.

“Please,” her voice shakes and there are tears in her eyes, “not here. Not in front of the boys. Send them to Dad’s or put them up in a hotel for the night but please, don’t do this in front of them.”

Uther doesn’t respond and she raises a tentative hand as if she’s going to stroke his face. His hand moves so fast that Merlin doesn’t even see it, just registers the gasp of pain Hunith makes as Uther grabs it in his fist. Merlin and Arthur jump to their feet at the same time but Merlin is closer and throws himself across the room.

“Don’t touch her,” he shouts.

He sees Uther turn at the sound of his voice and then he’s staggering backwards, his head reeling and his cheek growing warm from the impact. He’s still trying to blink the stars away when he hears shouting and catches a blur of motion out of the corner of his eye. On instinct, he shoots out a hand and grabs Arthur by the front of the shirt, stopping him from completing whatever insane thing he was about to do.

“Don’t,” he slurs, “it’s not worth it. You lay a finger on him and you know he’d call the cops.”

He turns to look Uther in the eyes and knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s true. Up close, he smells like alcohol, but while drinking has clearly played a part in this madness, Merlin doubts it’s the only thing fueling his rage. He wonders if it’s just because they haven’t seen each other in so long or if it’s part of this mad break from reality he’s currently experiencing, but the man looking at him with his father’s face feels like a stranger.

“I’m calling the police one way or another. I won’t have this slut and her bastard child under my roof for another night,” he spits.

Arthur makes to charge forward again but Merlin holds fast. His face is still throbbing from being backhanded but he’s slowly linking Uther’s statements together. Beside him, Hunith starts to cry.

He looks Uther square in the eyes before asking his question.

“Who is Balinor?”

“Uther, if you have any shred of respect left for me you’ll walk out of here right now without answering that,” Hunith pleads.

“Balinor,” Uther spits the name like it's poison, “was my business partner twenty years ago and the man your mother chose to have an affair with.” He turns his icy gaze to Hunith. “I knew the dates never matched up properly but you swore up and down you were pregnant before my trip to Rome.”

Hunith’s legs give out and she falls to her knees, sobbing. Merlin stands numb, unable to do anything to help. His grip in Arthur’s shirt grows lax and he starts to wobble too before Arthur places a steadying hand on his back.

“Balinor is my father,” he says plainly.

“Yes,” Uther sneers, “and he’s the reason I want you and your mother out of this house tonight. I won’t have you taking advantage of my charity any longer.”

Merlin hears his words but doesn’t connect with them because they don’t make sense. This Balinor person can’t be his father because Uther is his father. He’s never even met anyone named Balinor. Clearly there’s been some kind of mistake because what Uther’s saying just isn’t possible. He tunes back in to hear Uther yelling at Hunith.

“...I won’t be paying for any more of his schooling and I’ll see to it that my lawyer petitions the school to get back what I’ve already paid under false pretenses. Now get up before I have you removed by force.”

“No.”

It’s the first time Arthur has spoken since Uther’s arrival. Merlin twists his neck to look at him and is shocked to see the same blind fury as on Uther’s face.

“Don’t tell me what to do, boy!” barks Uther.

“Oh, so I’m boy now too, am I Father? I thought you reserved that kind of disdain for those you judged biologically inferior to you. Or are you just in a generous mood tonight?”

“We’ll talk about this later but right now you need to go to your room and - ”

“No,” Arthur repeats. “You’re the one that needs to leave.”

“Are you siding with them?” venom drips on the word. “My own flesh and blood on the side of liars and thieves?”

“Yes,” Arthur says, firmly. “You’ve caused enough harm for one night. Walk to the inn or sleep on the side of the road. I don’t care where you go but you aren’t welcome here.”

He leans around Uther and pulls his keys from the door, pocketing them without taking his eyes off Uther.

“I’ll have the police throw you out too,” Uther growls. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Call them,” Arthur replies, just as low. “I’m sure they’d love to see the bruise on Merlin’s face and Mum’s wrist. Oh, and that you’ve been driving well past the legal limit. Though I suppose it might be nicer to spend the night in a holding cell than in a ditch.”

There’s a horribly tense moment where Merlin is sure Uther is going to take a swing at Arthur but it’s broken by Uther turning on his heel and leaving without looking back. Hunith doesn’t move from the floor but wails loudly, curled over on herself. It takes Merlin a moment to recognize the sensation he feels on his back is Arthur rubbing it gently, the buzzing actual words and not just senseless noise.

“Merlin, I need you to move sweetheart,” Arthur murmurs.

Merlin’s first instinct is to look at their mother as they never use terms of endearment in front of others, though it doesn’t take much to know she’s too far gone to hear anything right now.

“I need you to sit on the sofa,” says Arthur gently. “Can you do that for me?”

Merlin nods because of course he can do that. He does that all the time, why should right now be any different? He and Arthur make their way across the room slowly and Merlin sits on the sofa, waiting for more instructions.

“I’ll take care of this.” Arthur drops a kiss on the top of his head and starts upstairs.

Merlin sits calmly and watches his mum. She’s obviously very sad about what just happened and he wishes he could make her feel better but right now his job is to sit on the sofa. He can’t tell how much time passes before Arthur comes downstairs again but it must have been a fair bit because Arthur has a suitcase in his hand.

“Mum, Mum come on, I’m going to take you to Grandpa’s,” Arthur says softly.

It takes some coaxing but eventually Hunith gets to her feet. Merlin watches them walk towards the door when Hunith suddenly stops. Her eyes still shine with tears but when she turns to face him she’s calmer than she’s been since before Uther’s arrival.

“Merlin, I want to make it very clear to you that I never once regretted what I did because it brought you into this world and you mean everything to me. I need you to know that.”

He nods placidly at her and it’s a testament to how she’s awful she must be feeling that she doesn’t notice anything is off about it. Arthur however frowns at him after Hunith is out the door.

“I’m locking the door behind me. Don’t open it for anyone and if Dad comes round again call the police straight away. Will you be alright?”

Merlin cocks his head to the side because obviously he can handle it. This doesn’t make Arthur’s frown go away but he clearly judges their mother’s need to be greater as he shuts the door and locks it behind him.

Merlin stares at the door, listening to the crunch of Arthur’s footsteps on the gravel outside and the soft brass cover of ‘Walking in a Winter Wonderland’ oozing smoothly from the radio. It seems silly to have the radio still on when Christmas has been ruined like this but Merlin can’t bring himself to get up and turn it off. He wishes Uther had of waited until tomorrow to come home. It was all a big misunderstanding anyway. It wasn’t possible that this Balinor person was his father. Clearly Uther was lying.

Except that Uther doesn’t lie - ever. When Merlin was five the family had gone to Battersea Park Children’s Zoo. It was a swelteringly hot day and their parents had bought ice lollies for the boys. Merlin had gobbled his up greedily but Arthur had been far too interested in looking at the lemurs to mind what happened to his. When Uther turned around to see Merlin with two bare sticks in his hand he’d asked Merlin if he’d eaten Arthur’s. Merlin had lied, as five year olds often do, because he was quite certain that he would get in trouble for eating Arthur’s dessert. Uther had yanked his arm so hard he started to cry and yelled at him to never lie to him again. Merlin is a bit fuzzy on the details after that, but somehow Hunith was able to diffuse the situation until they got home. There Uther had sat Merlin down and given him a lecture on lying and honour, the details of which were lost on Merlin over the years, but he never forgot the strength of Uther’s grip on his arm or the overwhelming anger in his eyes.

So because Uther doesn’t lie, what he told them must be true. Balinor must be Merlin’s father.

It’s like when your foot is asleep and you start getting pins and needles of sensation in it again. The reality of the situation crashes into Merlin in waves. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the tears fall onto his hands folded carefully in his lap.

He doesn’t even know why he’s crying. It’s a shock yes, but he hasn’t done anything wrong and quite frankly, he should be glad to know he doesn’t have Uther’s genes in his body. But he can’t shake the toxic feeling of devastation spreading throughout his body. They used to joke with their friends about Arthur being the odd one out in their little family with his almond shaped eyes and his blond hair. It smacks of great cosmic irony that Merlin ended up being the bastard. One dark thought spirals after another and by the time Arthur gets home Merlin has worked himself into a state of wishing he’d never been born; after all, without his birth, Uther never would have found out about the affair and his mum wouldn’t be having the worst day of her life.

Arthur locks the door behind him and immediately heads for Merlin.

“I’m so sorry M,” he sighs, pulling Merlin into a tight hug, “he never should have done that.”

“S’ok.”

“No it’s not. It’s fucked up.” Arthur sits back on his haunches. “He’s an adult, and no matter how sorry he was feeling for himself he has a responsibility to handle things responsibly. I don’t want you putting any of his shit on you.”

Merlin snorts thickly. “How did you get so wise?”

Arthur laughs. “You can learn a lot from pre-schoolers. Especially pre-schoolers with deadbeat dads. Merlin,” he ducks his head and forces Merlin to look him in the eye, “whatever is going on between Mum and Dad is their business. I’m not going to love you any differently because of genetics.”

“I feel like that sentence was more reassuring inside your head,” says Merlin, wryly. “Isn’t it a good thing that we’re only fifty percent related instead of a hundred?”

“Point is, we’re in this together,” Arthur strokes the side of his face. “Whatever shite he tries to pull in the future, no matter how nasty things get in the inevitable court battles, I’m not going anywhere, and if he wants to cut me off for it then it’s his loss.”

“Arthur.” Merlin brings their foreheads together to communicate through touch what he can’t with words.

“I’m dead serious Merlin. There’s no me without you. I don’t care if I have to work crap jobs and take out a loan to cover my entire tuition, I’m not accepting a single pound from the man if he cuts you off. You’re still his son, genetics be damned.”

Merlin kisses him and tries to pour everything he feels into it; every drop of gratitude and thanks and love. There will be time for more talking later but right now both of them need this. Merlin tugs at Arthur’s shirt with both hands, bunching it in his fists.

Arthur breaks the kiss. “Blimey M, right here? The curtains are open.”

“Need you,” Merlin mumbles into his neck, “want you, don’t care who sees.”

“You kinky devil.”

Arthur pulls his shirt off and Merlin eagerly does the same. They meet back in the middle and Arthur pushes him down onto the sofa, chests rubbing together, coarse hair tangled together. Merlin loves it like this, loves feeling Arthur’s full weight on top of him. It makes him feel consumed, protected. Arthur uses one hand to pin Merlin’s hands above his head and rubs languidly along Merlin’s side with the other, teasing at his nippple every other pass. Merlin squirms beneath him; the touch is overwhelming and at the same time not enough. Arthur shifts to his neck and bites down hard, tongue roving over the newly sensitive flesh and Merlin arches up off the sofa.

“Need you inside me Arthur. Want to feel you.”

Arthur grunts and rolls off the side of the couch.

“Fuck M, you’ll drive a man mad if you keep talking like that.”

He practically runs up the stairs to grab their well-hidden bottle of lube. Merlin barely has time to pull his pants off and lie back down on the sofa when Arthur is on him again. He’s shed his bottoms somewhere along the way, leaving his cock to rub freely against Merlin’s thigh. Merlin brings their mouths together again in a messy kiss, tongue pushed deeply into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur wraps an arm around Merlin’s back and holds him close as he rocks against him, unhurried but with conviction.

“Tell me what you need M,” he breathes, “I’m yours for the taking.”

The wet drag of Arthur’s mouth over his jaw is almost enough to distract Merlin from his plan. Almost, but not quite.

“F-fingers,” Merlin stutters, shaking as his cock brushes Arthur’s stomach, deliciously warm but not enough.

Arthur relaxes his grip and Merlin slides down on the sofa. He still has enough brain power left to chuck his mum’s hand-embroidered pillows on the ground before they make a mess on them. Arthur looms over him and places two to fingers on Merlin’s spit slick lips.

“Get them wet for me.”

Merlin doesn’t need to be told twice. He greedily welcomes Arthur’s fingers into his mouth, pulling them in with teeth and tongue. Arthur’s head falls back as Merlin licks past the first knuckle, bobbing his head like he’s sucking a cock, drawing imaginary whorls with tongue.

“Fuck Merlin, you’re wasting your time with med school. Your mouth was clearly made to suck cock.”

Merlin arches an eyebrow and bites down ever so gently with just the hint of a warning.

“Alright, alright, be a bloody doctor then. Just give me access to that mouth after clinic hours and you’ve got me for life.”

Merlin hums and Arthur pulls his fingers out, popping the cap on the lube with his other hand.

“Absolutely sinful,” he mutters, coating his fingers for good measure.

“Shut up and get in already.” Merlin raises one leg and hooks his ankle around the back of the sofa.

“I love it when you boss me around.” Arthur lines up his fingers, teasing Merlin’s entrance with slow, sticky circles. “Everyone always thinks I’m the bossy one because I’m the baby of the family. If only they could see you now.”

He pushes the tip of his index finger past the rim and it takes all of Merlin’s willpower not to thrust back against it.

“Wish they could see you now too.”

Arthur places a steadying hand on Merlin’s hip and pushes deeper.

“So eager to please, one finger deep and begging to do more.” Merlin hisses as Arthur grazes his prostate. “What are you, some kind of homing pigeon?”

Arthur smiles languidly, and gives his finger a twist that drives Merlin absolutely wild. “You know me Merlin, I’m just a giver.”

The game is on then. Arthur drives into him, curling his finger just so that by the time he adds the second one Merlin is positive he could come from this alone. He loves watching Arthur watch the wet slide of his fingers. Loves the way he fists his own dick, the act of pleasuring Merlin making him harder. He tries to lose himself to the feeling of fullness and the slick sounds filling the living room, but it’s not quite enough. The reason the living room is empty comes crashing down on him again and needs more to fill the silence.

“I need you in me right now.”

Arthur looks up, dubious. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

Merlin doesn’t answer, just tosses Arthur the bottle and slides off his fingers. It feels like something is trying to claw its way out of his chest. Arthur is barely done coating himself when Merlin pushes him onto his back and mounts him. He ignores Arthur’s half-formed question and sinks down, taking Arthur up to the hilt. His groan mixes with Arthur’s, brought about by different reasons, and he starts to move with short rolls of his hips. It makes the stretch feel worse but the burn helps keep the thing in his chest silent. He braces himself with one arm on Arthur’s shoulder and one on the back of the sofa.

Beneath him, Arthur seems to be resisting movement. His mouth is half open and he’s breathing hard but his hips are still save for the slight sway provided by Merlin. Even his eyes are closed which is rare for him when he’s usually so eager to watch the action. It’s frustrating and it throws Merlin off his rhythm.

“What’s wrong? Move,” Merlin commands.

Arthur raises a hand and caresses the newly formed bruise on Merlin’s cheek, fingers ghosting over the raised flesh.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he grits out.

It’s almost too much. The thing in his chest threatens to bubble up and boil over. The fact that his brother - fuck, his half brother, thinks he can hurt Merlin with sex anymore than he’s already been hurt tonight is innocently sweet.

Merlin sighs and slows his hips until he’s almost still.

“Arthur, you asked what I need: this is it. Just for tonight. Please.”

They’ve left so many things unsaid in this broken conversation but, like always, Arthur hears the message loud and clear. The wistful sadness on his face lingers for the barest moment before he places both hands on Merlin’s hips and thrusts upwards. Merlin’s head falls back in relief more than pleasure and they pick it up so fast it’s like they never stopped. For every thrust of Arthur’s, Merlin meets him in the middle, grinding down on Arthur like this is their last night on earth.

It doesn’t last as long as Merlin wants but then again it never does. He arches his back and bears down as he comes, cock leaking freely onto Arthur’s chest and the sofa. Arthur follows him over the edge, grunting loudly, nails digging into Merlin’s back. With the fever of the moment over, Merlin suddenly feels tired far beyond the normal post-sex drowsiness. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally, and settles himself back on the sofa, not caring what kind of a mess he makes.

As always, Arthur has other ideas.

“Up,” he says, extending a hand as he lifts himself off the sofa.

“Can’t I just enjoy five minutes of post-coital bliss?” asks Merlin, feebly.

“That’s not what this is and you know it.” Arthur frowns. “You’re going to get in the shower and I’m going to clean us both up and tuck us into bed where we’re going to sleep for at least ten hours.”

“You’re totally the bossy one.”

Merlin doesn’t move and Arthur’s expression softens.

“I said I was going to take care of this M,” he says softly. “Now let’s go to bed.”

Merlin takes his hand.

***

Of course it’s all fine in the end: it always is. It doesn’t feel fine at the time though. The weeks after Christmas into the new year are unequivocally the worst of Merlin’s life. Uther shows up and refuses to enter the house until Merlin is upstairs and out of sight, as if he can’t stand being in the same room as him. Merlin supposes he finally understands a little of how Harry Potter feels, living with the Dursleys, but that doesn’t cheer him much. Arthur forces Uther to have a ‘private chat’ in the study after he’s done talking to Hunith. Merlin never finds out what he said, but somehow Arthur convinces him to keep paying for Merlin’s tuition. He’s cut off in every other regard though, and will have to apply for assistance for the rest of his expenses once he’s back in London. Of all the outcomes, this is better than he could have dared hope for, and he’s forever grateful that Arthur managed to get anything out of him at all. Uther leaves with two suitcases and the promise that his lawyer will be calling Hunith to set a time for their first official separation meeting. Merlin watches from his bedroom window as the back of Uther’s head disappears into his car. It’s the last time Merlin ever sees the man he knew as his father.

Going back to London is even harder than it was the first time. Hunith and Arthur both take him to the train station to see him off which means he doesn’t get anything more than a brotherly hug and slap on the back from Arthur. He doesn’t begrudge his mum for wanting to come though, and her tight hug and whisper of everything is going to be alright before he goes through the barrier fortifies him in the way that only a parent’s love can.

He tells his new friends at uni that his parents are getting a divorce but spares them the gruesome details. They are appropriately sympathetic but they don’t make much of an effort to keep in touch outside of class once Merlin starts staying home from parties and stops going out for drinks. His roommate does his best but their timetables are completely different and Merlin barely sees him. He does tell Lance and Will though. It’s a difficult conversation to start but once the ball gets rolling it comes pouring out of him. Lance is aghast and Will is spitting mad to the point that it’s comical; railing against the aristocracy and their skewed importance on bloodlines when Uther can hardly be considered anything more than upper middle class. Regardless of Will’s slightly misplaced passion, Merlin feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest for the first time since Christmas. Even better, they both offer to help find Balinor and put Merlin in contact with him.

Arthur had made this offer as well shortly before Merlin returned to London but Merlin had rejected it. At the time it had felt too rushed and he didn’t want to become another stereotype of a child searching for their lost parent. But near the end of January his curiosity finally becomes too great and the three of them begin to search for Balinor. It doesn’t take them long to find the result in the form of an obituary dating back to the late eighties. Apparently he was the victim of a hit and run while cycling late at night. The information is a shock to Merlin’s system and he feels an unexpected grief despite never knowing the man. Hilariously, his efforts at not become a stereotypical bastard backfire spectacularly. The progress he thought he’d been making since Christmas grinds to a halt and unknowingly he starts withdrawing into himself. Sure, he still goes to classes but the days blur together and his movements are mechanical. His texts with Arthur grow few and far between and he manages to beg off most of Will and Lance’s invitations to meet up. He knows he’s doing them wrong, especially Arthur who put himself on the line and is the only reason Merlin is even back at school right now, but he can’t shake the feeling that they’re all better off without him. He’s turning into a fucking parody of himself and he hates it, but he can’t figure out how to get his head out of his ass. The time spent in Todenham angsting over a possible divorce seems small and insignificant now compared to recent events. He supposes it’s all part of growing up and gaining perspective. Nobody said the world was fair, but no one warned him it was mercilessly cruel either.

***

Sat, Jan 29, 7:37 PM  
A: Hey M, you around?

Sun, Jan 30, 1:21 AM  
M: Sorry, was working on a paper and left my phone in my room

Sun, Jan 30, 9:01 AM  
A: Course you did you. Nerd

Sun, Jan 30, 11:12 AM  
A: I’m bored

Sun, Jan 30, 11:45 AM  
A: Meeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrlinnnnnnnnnn

Sun, Jan 30, 12:32 PM  
A: You’re no fun anymore

Tues, Feb 1, 1:51 PM  
A: Be glad you’re out of this crap school. McAllister just assigned us a map project where we have to colour and label a map of the world. COLOURING.

Wed, Feb 2, 11:47 PM  
M: That’s about your skill level then

Thurs, Feb 3, 12:01 AM  
A: Took you long enough to respond. Is your phone working?

Thurs, Feb 3, 8:30 AM  
A: No really, is your phone working? You’re taking forever and a day to text back.

Thurs, Feb 3, 12:38 PM  
A: Hello??

Fri, Feb 4, 3:27 PM  
W: My mate Eddie is having a party 2nite, wanna come?

Fri, Feb 4, 4:50 PM  
M: Sorry, got a lot of reading to do

Fri, Feb 4, 5:00 PM  
W: Mate, there’s always going to be reading to do. I haven’t seen you since...well you know when. I think it’d be good for you to come tonight.

Fri, Feb 4, 5:31 PM  
L: Hi Merlin. Will told me to text you and ‘see if I have better luck’. If you come out tonight I’ll sit down with you tomorrow and help you get through your assignments :-).

Fri, Feb 4, 6:36 PM  
M: Thanks Lance, but I don’t think you’d be able to help me with this stuff. I’ll come to the next one

Fri, Feb 4, 6:38 PM  
L: :-(

Fri, Feb 4, 6:40 PM  
L: You know I’m here if you ever need to talk

Fri, Feb 4, 6:47 PM  
A: Merlin so help me God if you don’t respond to this message in the next ten minutes I’m getting on a train

Fri, Feb 4, 6:50 PM  
M: Sorry, I’ve been really busy lately. Going to a party with Will and Lance now.

Fri, Feb 4, 6:51 PM  
A: So your phone is working then :P

Sun, Feb 6, 9:21 AM  
A: Or not.

Sun, Feb 6, 9:30 AM  
A: I figured you were too hungover to text yesterday but Will tells me you didn’t go out with them on Friday

Sun, Feb 6, 9:32 AM  
A: ???

Sun, Feb 6, 9:34 AM  
W: Why is your brother texting me and why did you tell him you went out with us on Fri?

Sun, Feb 6, 12:43 PM  
M: Last minute change of plans. Got swamped with homework. They’re really laying it on thick.

Sun, Feb 6, 12:55 PM  
A: That sucks. But you can take two seconds out of your day to let me know you’re still alive, yeah?

Mon, Feb 7, 7:01 AM  
A: Are you mad at me?

Tues, Feb 7, 6:17 PM  
A: Really?

Tues, Feb 7, 5:47 PM  
W: Are you ok man?

Wed, Feb 9, 5:48 PM  
A: I guess I’ll just continue texting into the void then

Wed, Feb 9, 2:33 PM  
L: Do you want to meet up and study today?

Thurs, Feb 10, 4:34 PM  
A: Ok, so something is obviously up with you

Thurs, Feb 10, 4:59 PM  
A: Not that I expect an answer to this, but do you want to talk about it

Thurs, Feb 10, 5:52 PM  
Missed call from Arthur

Fri, Feb 11, 11:56 PM  
A: You’re really starting to scare me

Fri, Feb 11, 11:58 PM  
Missed call from Arthur

Sat, Feb 12, 3:47 AM  
A: Merlin?

***

It all comes to a head on a Saturday in mid-February when he’s unexpectedly buzzed to come to the lobby and receive a visitor. It’s already gone eleven but he’s still in bed, debating whether he should even bother starting his homework or if he can push it back 'til tomorrow. It doesn’t really matter much; these days he’s lucky if he retains even a hazy memory of classes. He doesn’t bother putting shoes on and trudges down the hall in sock feet, pajama bottoms, and an oversized hoodie. There are a limited number of people who still come to visit him in halls, so he looks around for Lance or Will and doesn’t recognize his own mother until she stops a foot in front of him.

He’s been taller than his mum for years so it hasn’t registered with him that he has to look down on her in ages, but right now she looks downright tiny. Otherwise she looks the same as always does, a little tired perhaps, but everything is familiar save for a bit of grey showing at her roots. For reasons unknown, this is what pushes Merlin over the edge. Her mouth does a funny little wobble and as she’s pulling him into a hug, Merlin realises that her expression is the same one Arthur wore before he started fucking him in earnest on Christmas. Merlin’s face crumples and he rests his cheek on top of Hunith’s head. It’s only when his damp cheek makes contact with her hair that he realises he’s crying.

“‘Lo Mum,” he says hoarsely, voice rough from underuse.

“Hello, my darling boy,” Hunith whispers.

They go up to Merlin’s room so he can get dressed properly and Merlin is suddenly hyper aware of how filthy his side of the room is. He tries to kick the evidence under the bed when Hunith has her back turned but the damage has been done. They head to Carluccio’s; an Italian restaurant that’s big enough for them to talk without being overheard. After they order, there’s nothing to do but talk.

Merlin drags the spoon around his cup of coffee, trying to stall but knowing it’s inevitable.

“I’m obviously thrilled to see you Mum, but why are you here?”

“I’ve been trying to resist hopping on a train up here since you left.” She smiles softly at him over her tea. “But Arthur was concerned with the length and frequency of your messages so he called Will who said that you were dodging his texts too. This just gave me an excuse.”

“Ah.”

Guilt and shame rise up in his throat, each one jockeying to be the dominant emotion. He hadn’t meant to worry anyone and in the light of day it’s obviously stupid to think he could stop texting his oldest friends and brother without repercussion.

“I know you probably have a lot to say right now, but before we get into it I need to say I’m sorry.” She lays a hand on the table expectantly and Merlin lays his left in her right. “I’m so sorry that you’ve been dragged into all of this. All a mother wants is to be able to protect her children and I’m just, so so sorry this isn’t something I could shield you from.”

“Balinor is dead,” is all Merlin can think of to say back.

“I know.”

Hunith rubs a thumb across his pulsepoint and Merlin has to look away before he starts crying again like some kind of sap who can’t hold his shit together in public.

“If you know he’s dead you probably know this already but he died shortly before you were born. It was never a case of me trying to deny you from knowing your biological father.”

“Did you love him?”

“Yes.”

“We’re you going to leave Dad for him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was his death the only reason you stayed with Dad after I was born?”

“No.”

Merlin yanks his hand back.

“How does that make any sense?” he all but yells. A couple of people turn their heads at the noise but in true British form, no one comes over.

“It doesn’t,” Hunith sighs. “We were young and foolishly naive about the world and I’m not telling you this to justify my actions but simply to give context.”

Merlin huffs and leans back against the booth seat but doesn’t say anything.

“Your father - and I mean Uther when I say that because that’s what he is - and I got married when he was twenty-five and I was twenty-one. I was barely out of school and was so excited to start a family with the man of my dreams. Your father had slightly different ideas. He didn’t want to start a family until we were established. I say it with such emphasis because the definition kept changing depending on how well he was doing at work. I used work at a bookshop around the corner from his office. My favourite time of the day was lunch because it meant I could go to his office and eat with him. He worked such long hours it wasn’t uncommon for him to come home well past dinner time and the break room was large enough that no one minded an extra body. That’s how I met Balinor.”

She stops talking and Merlin looks up to see her gazing off in the middle distance, a wistful smile playing on her lips.

“He had started with the company a year before your father and the two of them were paired up as sales partners. They had a natural rapport and they worked so seamlessly together you’d think they’d known each other all their lives. I remember thinking he was good for your father - he tempered him, made him more receptive to the client’s needs and taught him how to be a better listener. Honestly, without Balinor I doubt your father would be as successful as he is today. And he was such a charmer.”

Merlin looks away again, stares at the rough wooden floor and lets his eyes unfocus.

“I’m not saying this to try and endear him to you, just to explain how our relationship started. He always made me feel welcome at lunch and sat with me on the days your father was too busy to take a break. He was so easy to talk to, he always had the most interesting things to say, and he had a sharp wit - always ready with a joke. It got to the point that I always came by the office to eat even when your father was out on a solo call. I’ll spare you the details, but things began to heat up between us. You’re so young Merlin, so so young, but you’ll grow to learn that love is never as straightforward as it looks in the movies. It’s complicated and messy in ways you never expect.”

Merlin snorts and wishes he could explain why. The complexities of love are one thing that will never be lost on him.

“I wasn’t...I never fell out of love with your father. Not back then anyway. But Balinor filled in what was missing in my relationship with your father. He travelled so much and even when he was home he always put his work first. I can see now that he was trying to do what he thought was best for our family but at the time it felt cold where Balinor was nothing but warmth.”

Their server arrives, arms laden with focaccia, linguine, and risotto. Merlin tries to smile at her but his face feels wooden and it probably looks like he has a facial tick. Hunith manages far better and declines fresh pepper or cheese with a full row of teeth showing in her smile.

“I meant what I said Merlin: I don’t know whether or not I would have stayed with your father. Things were different back then and both our families were so conservative. I can count the number of relatives that got divorced on one hand. Getting pregnant with you never factored into that decision though, and neither did Balinor’s death.”

“What made you stay then?”

“The look on your father’s face when I told him I was pregnant. He’d just come home from a week long trip and closed the largest solo deal of his career. He wanted to take me out for champagne but I told him I couldn’t drink.” She sighs. “The man you’ve known in recent years is nothing like the man I married. I doubt you’ve ever seen anything close to the expression he had when he touched my stomach that night but it was pure bliss. He wanted you and that’s what convinced me to stay.”

Tears are rolling down her face in earnest now and Merlin isn’t far behind.

“You were always wanted Merlin, we just had different ideas about the timing. After that night, he was a changed man. He stopped working late and started going in early instead. We moved from our cheap, mouldy flat to one that was probably out of our price range but was at least safer for your development. He read every parenting book I brought home from work. He was so excited to be a dad,” her voice trembles and Merlin is torn between comforting her and needing to hear more.

“I broke it off with Balinor and told Uther the lights in the breakroom gave me headaches to get out of seeing Balinor. I don’t think he wanted to end it but he agreed it was for the best with a baby on the way. He never asked if it was his but he definitely suspected. And it speaks to his character that he took our secret to the grave.”

“How did Dad find out then? Twenty-some years after Balinor died?”

“You’re never as careful as you think you are, especially when you’re young and foolish,” she sighs. “Balinor’s building had a doorman and on the few occasions we booked a hotel room, we’d switch up whose name it was under. The PI your father hired was very thorough in his investigation. He would have never put the pieces together without knowing what he was looking for.”

“Why did he even hire a PI in the first place?”

“You know how hard it is for your father to admit defeat. He was looking for an out. He wanted to find evidence that I’d been unfaithful to use against me in court. I think it’s a way of explaining why our marriage failed instead of accepting some of the blame.”

“But he’s right!” Merlin grimaces. “You were unfaithful and I... I -”

“You brought nothing but joy to our lives,” says Hunith, firmly. “None of this is on you Merlin. The reasons my marriage failed are many and varied but it has nothing to do with you or your brother. He’s wanted out for a long time and he’s taking the coward’s way out by blaming an innocent child. You are his son in all the ways that matter and he’s choosing to sacrifice your relationship for his pride.”

There’s an awkward silence for the first time since Hunith started her story. He’s suddenly glad that they’re doing this in public and not cloistered up in his room where he might’ve shouted and interrupted long ago. His brain feels heavy and sodden though now from all this new information, like a sponge filled to the bursting point with water.

“I’m hardly a child anymore,” he finally grumbles, unable to think of anything else to break the ice.

It works well enough though, as Hunith huffs a laugh.

“I don’t know about you, but I was ready to eat hours ago.”

Merlin nods; truthfully, he can’t remember when his last proper meal was. There are still so many things they need to talk about - more than they’ll be able to cover over a single lunch. But for the first time in almost three weeks Merlin’s chest isn’t threatening to cave in on itself. He picks up his fork and stirs it through his pasta.

“Tell me more about Balinor.”

***

Hunith goes home that evening with a promise to come down again soon and an order to clean his room immediately because grief is no excuse for wallowing in filth. Her last words before she passes through the barrier are, “and would you please call your brother? He’s positively frantic to know how you are.” The steely glint of his mother’s eyes following him all the way home, Merlin does just that: the cleaning that is. It takes him the better part of an hour but the difference in the air quality alone is outstanding and he’s glad he chose to execute this part of Hunith’s orders first. Deciding how to broach the conversation with Arthur is a completely different matter.

They’ve never had a fight before; not really anyway. They are expert squabblers and champions at bickering but it’s never been over anything important. Depending on how this next interaction goes it could lead to their first real fight, and Merlin’s not sure his heart could handle that right now. Metaphorical hat in his hands, he sends a text to Arthur that reads ‘can we talk?’ He’s still got the phone in his hands, trying to decide whether to stare at it to try and will a response or whether he should try to distract himself with something when it rings.

“So you realise that was a fairly shitty thing to do, right?” says Arthur before Merlin’s even got the phone up to his ear propper.

“I know,” he groans.

“Because our father literally just went off the grid for two weeks before coming home to ruin Christmas.” Arthur’s tone is even but only just, strained with the kind of tension he only has when he’s genuinely upset about something.

“I know.”

“And since you know, you probably realise how pissed I am at you for basically doing the same thing.”

“Arthur - , I know, trust me. Mum wouldn’t have come down here to kick my arse if I hadn’t screwed up royally.”

“Did she actually kick it?”

“Metaphorically. We had the saddest lunch of all time and she let me wallow for a bit and then over dessert told me to get my act together.”

“Damn, I told her to actually kick you.”

“Thanks.”

“You deserve it,” Arthur grumbles. “So out with it then, what’s got you so mopey? Will said I should probably hear it from you and when Will’s the one acting responsibly I know it’s not good.”

“Balinor’s dead.”

“Shit!”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck M, do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes, but not now. I just spent the last six hours with Mum alternating between raging and crying and I’m feeling a bit spent now.”

“No kidding.”

“I mean, I will want to talk about it eventually though,” says Merlin quickly. He gets up and starts to pace, running a finger along his desk. “Look, you’re always the one making the big promises so here’s one from me: no matter what other fuckery comes along in our lives, I promise to always talk to you about it. I learned a lot from Mum today about her marriage and honestly, I think the majority of their problems probably could have been fixed if they had of actually talked to each other and I don’t want to make the same mistake with you. And that goes for you too! I’m tired of being the one with all the problems and I refuse to fall into anymore sad emo stereotypes. If there’s ever anything you want to talk about, I’m all ears!”

“Well obviously you’re all ears. Have you even seen yourself?”

“Har har. I’m sorry if I didn’t end my speech eloquently enough for you.”

“Don’t be, it was a good speech.”

Merlin flops down on his bed. “Look. It’s been a long day and I’m slightly maudlin right now but I bloody love you and I’m dead serious about that promise. If I ever start being emo again, just tell me and I’ll kick my own arse. I’m not going to let my daddy issues wreck whatever the hell it is we’ve got going.”

There’s jingling at the door and the scraping of a key being fitted in a lock.

“Shit,” Merlin whispers. “Toby’s just arrived, can we talk again soon?”

“Obviously, you’ve still got a lot of groveling and apologizing to do.” Arthur’s words may be thorny but his tone is significantly warmer than it was when they started.

“Hey, I made a speech and everything!”

“Speeches aren’t a cover-all for abandonment Merlin. You aren’t the only one with daddy issues.”

“Alright then go get a big hug from mummy when she gets in. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He clicks out of the call just as Toby gets the door open. He stops with his foot on the threshold and sniffs before seeing Merlin sprawled awkwardly on the bed.

“Hey, you finally cleaned!”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I don’t usually let it get that bad. I just...hit a bit of a rough patch.”

Toby flings his bag onto his bed.

“No worries mate, everyone has shit to deal with sometimes.”

Merlin’s phone vibrates and he looks down to see a text message from Arthur.

Today 7:33 PM

For the record, I’m still mad at you but I love you too, you great numpty

Merlin smiles down at his phone like a fool and sends a heart back just because he knows it will make Arthur laugh.

Toby’s almost got his jacket off when he freezes like he’s reconsidering the action.

“Hey, do you feel like going out Chinese? There’s a new buffet that just opened and does a student deal.”

“Sounds good. Do you mind if I text a couple friends and ask if they want to join?”

“No problem. I’ll Google the address.”

***

The initial talk with Hunith is the first of many in a long series of difficult but necessary conversations. They play out over a number of months and are supplemented with several visits to the uni’s counseling center. He has a lot to work through: he’s angry at Uther for dumping all of this on them and angry at his biological father for up and dying before he ever got the chance to meet him. He’s mad at his mum too, at the choices she made when she was just a few years older than him and at the part she had to play in making his last few years at home a warzone, but it’s not the same kind of anger.

Hunith had been hurt so many times in her life; by Uther’s absences, by Balinor’s death, by all the fighting, and by her own conscience. He thinks about how awful he feels in the present and tries to imagine what it must of been like for her back then, scared, pregnant, and unable to tell anyone why she was so upset by Balinor’s death. The fact that she went through all that on her own and stayed; that she tried to shield her sons from the worst of Uther’s anger, that she puts on a happy face whenever they talk so he won’t see how devastated she is means he can’t stay angry for very long. His councillor helps him unravel the tight ball it feels like he’s carrying around in his chest and by the end of his first year, Merlin has reached a sort of cold peace with his feelings for Uther; as long as he doesn’t dwell on them for long; he’s fine. It’s far from a perfect solution but it’s better than the alternative of being furious all the time so he’s willing to settle. The divorce is finalized in June and despite Uther’s threats, the court rules that Hunith is entitled to a reasonable amount of spousal maintenance. She moves in with Gaius in Oxford and the house in Todenham is put up for sale. Merlin isn’t sad to see it go; the only happy memories he has from there are the ones he made with Arthur.

Arthur moves back to London in September to start his degree in social work at London South Bank University. Arthur’s experiences volunteering at the day nursery was the biggest driving factor in his decision but everyone agrees it’s a wonderful choice. Merlin thinks it’s just a little bit funny that they were both drawn to their chosen professions by a desire to help people; two sides of the same coin says their Grandpa. Going back for his second year is a lot easier knowing his brother is a mere twenty minute walk away. That, and the fact that he’s managed to secure a single room for the year meaning he and Arthur can have several unplanned sleepovers should the need arise.

Being back in London with Arthur makes it easy to forget that Jeremy Kyle-like paternity announcement ever happened. Merlin doesn’t feel the need to do anymore digging about Balinor: in his mind what’s done is done and he doesn’t feel the need to check another item like ‘meeting the long lost grandparents’ off his teen angst bingo card. Arthur doesn’t press him on it, but he’s always happy to talk about him if Merlin brings him up. He’s more than willing to talk about Uther though, and it’s never without a few choice swear words thrown in the mix. As part of his agreement (or in his words, his Deal with the Devil) Arthur has to spend time with Uther twice a month to ensure Uther will continue to pay for both Arthur and Merlin’s education. Merlin worries about whether the deal is worth it for the stress on Arthur’s end but Arthur just snorts and says if Uther wants to try to buy his love back then the more power to him. All of this is well and good until Arthur comes back positively fuming from dinner and reports that Uther has moved into a house two doors down from their childhood home. It takes Merlin several hours and a couple of drinks to calm him down enough to sleep. The next day Merlin makes another bid to get him to cancel the deal but Arthur can be just as stubborn as Uther and refuses to entertain the idea. They fall into a pattern after that, wherein Merlin discovers that the best way to relieve Arthur’s tension after dinner with Uther is with vigorous sex. It gets to the point where Arthur doesn’t even say anything when he gets back, just drops his pants and props his arse up in the air, waiting for Merlin to get to work. They save Arthur’s report for the next morning, when Merlin can bring Arthur breakfast in bed and Arthur can talk about it without having an aneurysm.

Beyond Uther’s twice monthly visitations they rarely talk about him. It’s not like they have oodles of free time anyway. Merlin’s second year course load is even heavier than the first and Arthur didn’t exactly choose a bird course either. Most of their time outside of class is spent holed up in various libraries, more often than not together despite attending different schools. Sometimes, when all their schedules align, they meet up with Lance and Will and some of Arthur’s old mates for a night out, but they’re lucky if that happens more than once a month. Between his workload and his new job at the Student Union the days all bleed together and he loses all sense of time. It’s not until Hunith asks him what his travel plans are that he realises it’s December. He’s understandably subdued when it comes to holiday planning and is grateful when Gaius rings to ask him if he thinks Hunith would enjoy going on a Caribbean cruise for Christmas. Merlin urges him to make the offer: both because he thinks his mum would really enjoy a cruise and also because it leaves him and Arthur alone to make their own plans.

They spend the days leading up to Christmas wandering around town, their classwork finally slowed down with the start of the Winter Holidays. They do the Southbank Christmas Market and have fun stuffing their faces with lobster mac ‘n’ cheese and various chocolate covered sweets. Arthur buys Merlin a new pair of mittens with a string attached to each hand after he loses his third pair of the year and Merlin gets back at him by shoving him into one of the various roaming Santa’s and making him take a picture. After that it’s up to Piccadilly Circus to see the Eros statue transformed into a giant snow globe, though sadly it isn’t lit up when they walk passed. The lights on Regent Street are worth the trip though, each gently twinkling bulb lighting the way for last minute shoppers. They take in a Christmas Eve showing of Matilda for a lack of anything better to do and both end up blinking furiously to try and hide their tears from the other. After the show, they sit outside with their backs against the tall pillar in the middle of Seven Dials and watch the cabs take the last of the holiday shoppers home, strings of lights shining magnificently overhead. His back is stiff and he’s cold from sitting on stone for so long, but he doesn’t move until his watch beeps to tell him it’s midnight. He doesn't know what he was waiting for exactly, because it’s not like Uther knew where they were and was going to ambush them, but he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and stands up, finally ready to go.

***

The sound of cowbell accompanied by a pounding beat pierces the air; the telltale opening to Funky Town. The over-synthesized version of the song that Arthur had chosen for his ringtone is incredibly obnoxious. Arthur argues this is to give Merlin more incentive to answer the call.

Merlin can’t argue the soundness of his logic. He stops mid-stride, doing a funny little turn to get himself up against a building and out of the way of the foot traffic and pats around in his jacket until he finds his phone. The lyrics have just started as he slides to answer and lifts the phone to his ear.

“You alright, I’m just about to go underground?”

There’s enough street noise on the other end of the line at Merlin has to plug his other ear to hear Arthur’s response.

“Yeah, I just haven’t talked to you all week and I thought we should have a chat about Mum’s birthday.”

“Oh shite, that’s next weekend, isn’t it?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Damn.”

“I feel like we’ve been particularly crap sons this year.”

Merlin slides down the wall to sit on the concrete ledge. “At least you remembered the event before the day.”

“Barely, and only because my phone gave me a notification about it.”

“Still. Do you reckon you have time to take the weekend off so we can go visit?”

“I can probably swing it. I’ve got a paper due Tuesday but if I rush it I can have it done before we leave and you can proof it for me on the train.”

“I’m not your bloody editor,” Merlin grouses.

“You say that every time. And yet...” Arthur sing-songs.

“Whatever.” He pauses, debating whether or not he wants to ask the next part of his question. “Do you mind covering my ticket? My next loan cheque doesn’t come 'til next week and I hate to ask but it’s sort of this or I live off biscuits and noodles until then. I’m down to my last fifty.”

“Say no more. Father dearest rang me earlier and wants to have lunch with me next week anyway, probably to tell me more awful things about Mum to try to bring me round to his side. I’ll get some more money out of him.”

“Are you sure? I can just ask Gaius if you’d rather skip out on lunch with Satan.”

“Naw. I think it does his karma good to spend money on his kid.”

“Even if he doesn’t know it?”

“Especially if he doesn’t know it. And it does my soul good trying to save his rotten one so we all win.”

“Brilliant, thank you! Can you sort out getting her some flowers? I’m just at Tottenham Court Road so I can swing back to Soho and grab her a book. That new Steven King one just came out.”

“Ooh while you’re in Soho, run by Fifty & Dean and pick us up some more lube too.”

Merlin surreptitiously looks around, knowing full well that no one around him cares in the slightest about his conversation. Regardless, he drops his voice to a whisper.

“I’m not buying us lube while on a shopping trip for our mother’s birthday.”

“Because that’s weird even for us.”

“But they just tweeted saying they’ve got a sale on and I want to try their new flavours!”

“I can’t believe you follow a sex shop on Twitter.” Merlin rubs a hand across his eyes. “Just...no.”

The street noise on Arthur’s end dissipates, like he’s just walked into a building.

“You know M, all this talk of lube has got me turned on.”

“I am so not doing this right now.”

“Whatcha weaaaring?”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Oh play along. Just tell me: boxers or briefs. Or are they those frilly little things you bought online to surprise me that one tim-”

“Byeeeeeee.”

***

The rest of the uni years pass in much of the same fashion with nothing particularly out of the ordinary happening. Merlin privately counts this as a win and is happy to leave the drama to the rest of his classmates. The moment he always expected to pass never does. Arthur never finds anyone else who catches his eye and Merlin never falls out of love with him. Will and Lance sometimes rib him about being permanently single but Merlin holds him off with a variety of excuses. It’s even easier to keep his classmates at bay and he tells them he has a boyfriend that goes to school up North. Arthur faces his fair share of questions too from his mates, and on one memorable occasion they actually tricked him into going on a date with a girl in his year by inviting him to a dinner and then not showing up (no one was particularly happy that night). They make it work though, apparently a lot better than Hunith and Balinor ever did, because no one questions if Merlin’s brother stays over for the night.

They’ve come a long way since their awkward fumblings in a bed in Massachusetts and Merlin still hasn’t tired of it. It’s different now that they’re older but his feelings haven’t changed save for growing more intense. He loves his stupid baby brother’s kind eyes and his obnoxious braying laugh. Still counts down the minutes until everyone goes home for the night and they can drop the facade. Still goes absolutely wild for it when Arthur sinks down on his knees in front of him. The things they talk about may have changed: they’ve swapped gossip about their teachers and worrying about their parents for growth chart statistics and warning signs of abuse, but the core of their relationship remains the same. Sharing a life with Arthur still feels like the most natural thing in the world when all laws of nature dictate it should be unnatural.

Arthur graduates from his program with top marks and an offer of employment from one of the organizations he did his placement with. If Uther attends the graduation ceremony he doesn’t show his face. Merlin and Hunith more than make up for it though, cheering wildly with Gaius when Arthur’s name is called. Arthur has a week off between graduation and starting his new job, so he and Merlin decide to make the most of it with a last minute holiday in Scotland.

They’ve beat all but the first wave of international tourists and it feels exhilarating to go on holiday like a normal couple. B&B owners they stay with smile and don’t bat an eye at their shared surname, making the obvious leap that they’re husbands. They rent a car and work their way along the coast before cutting inland to wind through the Highlands. Arthur bans Merlin from saying anything when they make an unscheduled stop at Loch Ness, arguing that it’s his trip and he can do what he wants. Merlin deserves an olympic medal for the herculean effort it takes to keep from laughing, but he loses it in the gift shop when Arthur comes to the cash with an armful of stuffies. He argues it’s for work to help break the ice with kids but he doesn’t have any excuse for the stack of books he tries to block from Merlin’s view.

Back in Edinburgh, they spend their last night back in a club off Lothian Road. They arrive at ten to find the place already packed with people of all ages. It’s like any other club they’ve been to in London but it’s the first time they’ve been to a club together. In the dim lighting, Arthur’s eyeliner stands out, accentuating his eyes and making him look downright edible. He’d argued putting it on the entire time getting dressed but Merlin wanted them to have at least one proper clubbing experience in their life and the fact that Merlin thought he looked fit as fuck with it? Well that was just an added bonus. Merlin, for his part, certainly didn’t want to wear his newly purchased skinny jeans but he figures it’s a fair trade.

They quickly down a few shots and make their way out onto the dance floor, sweaty bodies pressing in on all sides. It takes Arthur no time at all to find his rhythm which Merlin thinks is patently unfair as it takes him at least two songs to remember how to dance again without doing patterned white guy moves.

“It’s all the footie training,” Arthur half shouts over the pounding music, “kept me light on my feet.”

“Yeah alright Billy Elliot.”

“That’s boxing, mate. Some poof you are, you don’t even know your musicals.”

Merlin rolls his eyes but his smile gives the game away. “Give me a break, I’m only a half poof.”

Arthur just grins and pulls Merlin closer, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and the other hand firmly on his hip. Merlin isn’t big on dancing, perhaps as a result of being in a secret relationship for half a decade, but it’s incredibly sexy to be touching Arthur so intimately in public. Arthur seems to be on the same page because it doesn’t take them too long before any pretence of dancing is gone and they’re just grinding on each other to the beat.

Merlin’s back is tucked firmly against Arthur’s chest, every swing of his hips bringing him into contact with Arthur’s hard cock. He’s reaching backwards, hands sliding down the back of Arthur’s pants, urging him forward, Arthur’s arms wrapped securely around Merlin’s chest. The slick drag of Arthur’s mouth over his neck is delicious and Merlin can’t wait to get back to their hotel room and take off the goddamn skinny jeans. He’s about to suggest as much to Arthur when he catches sight of a familiar face across the room. Toby: his absentee roommate from first year, does a double-take and smiles incredulously before starting to walk towards him.

“Shit!”

Merlin whips around so fast he almost sprains his wrist retracting his hands from Arthur’s pants.

“We’ve got company, make yourself scarce.”

Arthur doesn’t need to be told twice. He puts his broad shoulders to good use and cuts through the crowd, leaving them to refill the space in his wake. Merlin’s heart is hammering fast, adrenaline racing through his system. Someone taps on his shoulder and he turns around.

“Merlin! That was you I saw over there!”

“Toby, hey!” He gives him an awkward hug, mindful of his still present bonner. “What a surprise. I haven’t seen you in ages. What are you doing here?”

“My girlfriend is a native, you remember Sam? Anyway, we’re up visiting her parents. What about you? Sorry if I scared your date away.” Toby stands on tiptoes and peaks over Merlin’s shoulder, trying to look for him.

“Ah, he’ll be back. And if not, there are other fish in the sea,” Merlin babbles, subtly trying to block his view. “My brother just graduated so we’re up doing a tour of the Highlands.”

“Oh yeah, I remember him. Arnold? You guys used to Skype a lot.”

“Sure did.” Merlin’s grin is slightly manic now even though it’s obvious Toby doesn’t remember Arthur well enough to put two and two together.

“Listen mate, Sam’s probably done in the loo now so I’ll let you get on with your evening. I just wanted to say hi. Keep in touch, yeah?” Toby clasps him on the shoulder and heads back towards the bar, oblivious to how close he was to giving Merlin a heart attack.

Merlin stands stock still in the sea of moving bodies. That was hands down the closest they’ve come to being caught. He should be terrified - is terrified definitely, but another part of him that’s gaining momentum now that the immediate threat has passed, is really fucking turned on.

A set of teeth graze Merlin’s left earlobe and he shivers.

“We should get out of here.”

“Yeah,” says Merlin, breathlessly.

Outside the night air is blissfully cool, a sweet reprieve from the muggy warmth of the club. Merlin stumbles as they start to walk and it’s possible that he’s a little drunker than he thought. Their hotel is only a few blocks away and Merlin has never been more ready to strip in his life. The skinny jeans make it horrible to try and walk with an erection but there’s no hope in it going away anytime soon.

They pass through the (mercifully) empty hotel lobby and up to their room, though it takes them a few minutes to extract the room card from Merlin’s jeans. As soon as they’re in, Merlin kicks the door shut and pins Arthur against it.

“Hey!” is all Arthur manages to get out before Merlin seals their mouths together.

He kisses with urgency, tongue licking deep into Arthur’s mouth, hands busy working on the button of Arthur’s trousers. He’s got approximately ten seconds of sanity left before he starts humping like a wild animal and he’d prefer them to be as naked as possible before he loses it.

“Not that I don’t enjoy a good ravishing,” Arthur breaks the kiss, panting hard, “but is there anything in particular that’s got you in the mood tonight?”

Merlin finally pops the button on Arthur’s jeans and starts to work on his own, shimmying out of the tight denim.

“Fuck, we were so close Arthur. If that had of been any other friend - hell, if it had of been a bloody librarian, we’d be in so much shit. I dunno,” he runs a hand through his hair, trying to come up with the words, “I think it’s like some kind of flight or fight instinct kicked in but instead of fight it’s fuck. Like, if this had of been the last time we could be together before it all fell apart, I was ready for it. This isn’t making any sense, is it?”

Arthur smirks. “It does, and do I have good news for you. The eyeliner wasn’t the only present I have for you tonight.”

He turns around and for one bizarre second Merlin thinks Arthur is going to open the door and walk out in his pants. Then Arthur drops his pants and Merlin realises what he’s supposed to be looking at. Poking out from between Arthur’s cheeks is the end of a plug. It’s deep red with a flared base that spreads Arthur’s cheeks deliciously. Merlin’s mouth starts to water.

“Where did you get that?”

“Picked it up in London ages ago but never got around to trying it. I wanted to save it for a special occasion.”

Merlin can’t tear his eyes away from the plug. “And you’ve been wearing it all night?”

“Why do you think I took so long in the toilet? The eyeliner wasn’t that difficult.”

He starts to turn around but Merlin raises a hand and stops him.

“No. This...this works.”

Body moving on autopilot, he sinks to his knees so he can take a better look. The plug is a decent size, made of some kind of silicone and warm to the touch. Arthur shivers as Merlin runs his fingers around the base.

“How does it feel?”

“Different,” Arthur laughs. “Full but not uncomfortable. And when you were squeezing my arse on the dance floor; that, that was good.”

Merlin doesn’t respond, just cups Arthur’s cheeks and rubs his thumbs in slow circles, kneading into the soft flesh. Arthur groans and arches into it, propping his arms against the door.

“I’m going to take it out now,” Merlin says, calmly.

He’s never done this before, and maybe it’s the alcohol but he feels completely confident. Gripping the end firmly, he pulls ever so slowly on the base of the plug. A sharp breath escapes Arthur’s lips and Merlin goes even slower. Sitting up higher, he presses soft kisses to the base of Arthur’s spine, running his tongue along the divots and nibbling ever so softly for distraction. The plug seems to want to twist to the right so Merlin goes with it, pulling it out in a slow spiral. It doesn’t take long before it’s out, warm and solid in Merlin’s hand. Merlin stares, mesmerized at the slow trickle of lube coming out of Arthur’s stretched hole and can’t help but lean closer.

“How do you feel?”

“Cold,” Arthur answers.

“I can fix that.”

He closes the gap between them with his tongue, laying it flat over Arthur’s hole. Arthur gives a full body shudder and Merlin lets it course through him, lets him acclimatized to the sensation. He takes a tentative lick and it feels amazing to be able to dip in without meeting the usual resistance. The synthetic taste of lube lingers on the surface but underneath it’s all Arthur, all rich musk and earthy taste. He rubs his tongue around in a full circle and Arthur practically weeps.

Merlin tugs at Arthur’s thighs, urging them apart to give him a better angle. Arthur spreads wide for him and then Merlin really goes to town, licking and sucking and seeing just how far his tongue can go. His jaw aches and great globs of spit are leaking out of his mouth and down Arthur’s thighs but he doesn’t care. He’s so desperate for it, ignoring his own leaking cock in favour of marking Arthur’s cheeks with his nails. Arthur rocks back against his tongue, fucking himself at a brutal pace, keeping up a muttered litany of curse words as he does.

When Arthur grabs his cock and starts stroking furiously, Merlin knows it’s a matter of seconds before he comes. He shoves his tongue in as far as he can reach, teeth bracketing the rim and holds it, face mashed into Arthur’s rear. Arthur comes with a whimper, hips held snugly in place by Merlin’s hands. Merlin doesn’t let go until he’s sure Arthur’s spent and when he does finally pull back it’s to the lovely sight of Arthur’s come dripping down the mirror on the back of the door. Arthur still has both hands braced on the door, head down on his arms, panting hard. Merlin licks his lips: he can still smell Arthur, still taste him on his tongue. It only takes a few quick strokes for him to spill his load onto the carpet.

“Well that was new,” Arthur says finally.

“Good new or oh god, let’s never do that again new?” Merlin teases.

“Good new with a side of please can we do this every week?”

Arthur turns round and pulls Merlin to his feet. His face is bright red and his eyeliner is smudged into streaks at the corners of his eyes. He holds up his forearm and shows Merlin an angry-looking welt. The marks are so pronounced that Merlin can pick out individual teeth shapes.

“It’s lucky that my new job requires long sleeves,” Arthur laughs.

Merlin snorts. “C’mon Dracula, let’s get you bandaged up before you start to bleed on the carpet. We don’t need to add any more charges to our cleaning bill.”

***

Life changes for the better once they’re back in London. Since he’s graduated, Arthur can no longer stay in halls and starts flat hunting. Neither of them has to ask the other whether they should be looking for one bedroom or two. It doesn’t take them long to find a flat well-suited to their needs: technically it’s got two bedrooms but the second one is so small it barely fits a single bed and a wardrobe. The real estate agent jokingly suggests they wrestle for it and Merlin barely contains his laughter at Arthur’s response of, “that’s not a bad idea.” In the end, they decide to tell people Merlin took the smaller of the two rooms because he practically sleeps in the lab anyway.

It’s not a huge exaggeration; his classes continue to eat up the majority of his time as he moves into the second half of his studies. Most days Arthur beats him home though he always waits to have dinner with Merlin. They’ve learned from the mistakes of their parents, and no matter how crazy Merlin’s hours and how stressful Arthur’s cases get, they continue to carve out time for each other, even if it’s only a quick meal before they both pass out in front of the telly. It’s not easy, but it never has been. They won’t be able to get married, won’t be able to raise a family by conventional means, and will have to continue to lie to their closest friends and family when they ask about their love lives. Both of them still have to live with the pain of Uther disowning Merlin because both of them lost their father that day. They’ll never be able to see light in their mother’s eyes when they tell her about the little things their partner does that makes them fall even more in love. But as they sit in their living room, Merlin’s feet in Arthur’s lap, the radio on low, Merlin thinks it’s all worth it.

He takes the bookmark out of their most recent purchase and beings to read aloud.

“Artemis Fowl grew impatient. Dr. Argon was late. This final session was just as unnecessary as the past half dozen. He was completely cured, for heaven’s sake, and had been since week eighteen...”


End file.
